


Something New

by kkwide



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hurt/Comfort, Life After Hogwarts, M/M, Married Life, One Night Stands, POV Alternating, Pining, Pursuing Careers, Quidditch, Quidditch World Cup, Romance, Terminal Illnesses, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 132,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkwide/pseuds/kkwide
Summary: Rose thought her future was all set before she had even graduated Hogwarts, but little did she know. She made mistakes, and now she tries to live with them, while trying to figure out what to do with her life.Albus lives a rather normal life between a fake girlfriend, cleaning after his brother's messes and trying to solve out other people’s problems.James is a Quidditch celebrity, and while he lives - mostly - by the book during the season, the off-season is another thing. James will face many changes during the following months, including the upcoming Quidditch World Cup where he will play for the English team.Hugo doesn't see what everyone else around him does: how he is walking down the path into exhaustion while pursuing his career as a Healer. And why should he? He has it figured out.Hermione has returned to live a Muggle life. Even if she has a successful career, there are still several issues to resolve before she can sit back and enjoy her life.Ginny has been through a lot, but she chooses to continue living her life. Some days, it seems that she can only hope that her husband chooses to do the same thing.
Relationships: Albus Severus Potter/Original Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Original Character(s), Hugo Weasley/Original Character(s), James Sirius Potter/Original Character(s), Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Comments: 70
Kudos: 84





	1. Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is the new story I'm working on, with several (6) POVs: Rose, Albus, James, Hugo, Ginny and Hermione. There're a lot of topics, all the characters have their own lives and their own stories, which naturally, will collide every once in a while. 
> 
> I'm really excited to share this so please, let me know what you think! :)

**Chapter 1: Rose**

**Tuesday, 4 November, 2025**

“You’re taking the piss.”

Rose gave Scarlett an unimpressed look, knowing how much she resembled her mother whenever she summoned the expression onto her face.

Scarlett took a large sip from her wineglass. “Okay, go on.” Scarlett said, nodding at her before taking another hefty gulp. “Merlin knows I need this.”

Rose wasn’t sure if her friend meant the wine or the story she was about to tell her. “Scar…” She sighed, looking pointedly at her friend’s quickly emptying glass. “You _do_ remember we’re both working tomorrow?” Rose asked, even though she was holding a glass of her own between her fingers.

It was their tradition – Tuesday wine-night. It happened on Wednesdays sometimes, too. And sometimes on Thursdays. And Fridays and Saturdays. But never on Sundays – they both visited their families on Sundays – and usually not on Mondays, as Scarlett had her evening classes in St Mungo’s ancient remedies department, where she was doing her apprenticeship in magical occupational therapy. Which was something Rose’s mother never forgot to bring up – the fact that Rose was on her second year off after Hogwarts and working at a coffee shop of all places, while Scarlett who had graduated a year after Rose, a mere five months ago, had a plan for her future.

Rose knew her mother didn’t mean to be mean or harsh, but… She was Hermione Granger, and Rose knew her mother was expecting a lot from her, being her eldest child. Being her child in general.

“Oh, tosh,” Scarlett huffed, waving her off. “We both know Higgins doesn’t really care,” She said with a nonchalant look.

Higgins was their boss, and the one who owned the coffee shop near their flat. It wasn’t a hip place – just a regular one, with muggle customers, most of whom came during the morning hours to get their teas and coffees before running to their jobs and schools. The coincidence of Scarlett stumbling into and asking for a job at the exact same coffee shop, where Rose had been working for a year and not seeing any wizards or witches before that – if the herd of her relatives, who always seemed to pop by on the most inconvenient times wearing the most obnoxious and obvious wizarding clothes, wasn’t taken into account – was so odd and extraordinary, that they quickly became good friends. Best friends. After a mere two months of really knowing each other, since they _had_ seen each other at Hogwarts but hadn’t really talked, they moved in together as roommates to save money.

“Now. Spill.” Scarlett said, lifting up a perfectly shaped eyebrow, which was something Rose was very envious of – both the ability to lift just one brow up, as well as the fact that Scarlett’s makeup was always perfect.

Rose thought her friend was beautiful with _and_ without makeup: Scarlett’s hair was dark blonde, long and silky, always in perfect loose waves that fell over her shoulders, not requiring any spells. She was slender and tall, whereas Rose was short and, well, not pudgy, but she had to watch what she ate, since any extra calories always seemed to miraculously show up to her thighs. Scarlett’s eyes were bright green, her nose straight, her skin flawless and when she smiled, it always reached up to her eyes, making them even brighter.

Rose didn’t think of herself as unattractive – she rather liked the fact that she was short, that she had freckles, and that her eyes were the exact same brown colour as her mother’s. What she was somewhat resentful of was the fact that she had to spell her own thick, bushy, ginger hair into submission every single morning, whereas her friend had naturally perfect hair. Rose wasn’t bothered that she and her friend were very, very different in their appearance, as they were very much the same on the inside. 

Rose let out a long sigh. “Fine,” She grumbled. “So, as I said – before you rudely interrupted –” and Scarlett gave her a humbling nod, “– we had barely said hello, and then… his _tongue_ was already in my throat!”

Scarlett snorted loudly, but then gave an innocent look at her friend, urging her to continue.

“I mean, he practically lunged at me! It was quite… unexpected. And unwelcome,” Rose said with a grimace, recollecting the previous night, when she had gone on a date.

Rose thought her date had been…a slight miscalculation on her part. Miscalculations and unexpected occurrences – Rose reckoned the words could easily sum up what she had been experiencing after getting into online dating nearly two months ago. Usually it started brilliantly – she felt that she’d formed a connection to someone before agreeing to meet them. But then when the date came, and if the man bothered to show up – and yes, she had twice travelled half across the island only to be stood up; times she had been _very_ grateful that she was able to apparate back home – something always happened…

Once Rose had had dinner with a shy young man, only a year or so older than her, and he hadn’t said a _word_ the whole evening. After that, Rose had declined dinners. It had been too discomforting to sit in silence and trying not listen the sounds of them chewing down their meals. Once her date had arrived already properly soused. He’d gone sick on Rose’s new shoes.

It had taken a good dozen scouring charms to get them cleaned up.

Scarlett was laughing quietly. “How long did you stay?” She asked, a sly smirk on her face.

Rose lifted her brows up. “What do you think?” She countered, but when she saw her friend opening her mouth to say something cheeky, she quickly continued, “I left approximately twenty seconds after he released my mouth,” she said primly, and shuddered inwardly. It had been awkward and very unromantic. She had made an excuse to slip into the bathroom of the bar they had met in, and had disapparated.

“The usual bathroom-escape then?” Scarlett asked knowingly.

Rose gave her an agreeing grunt. Scarlett knew too much of Rose’s dating life.

There was a silence. Rose leaned her head against the backrest of their small sofa, feeling defeated. “I’m never going on a date again.”

“Aw, cheer up, Rose,” Scarlett said lightly. “Next time is different.”

Rose turned her head slightly towards her friend, who knew exactly what Rose was thinking as she grimaced, and summoned the wine bottle.

“There’s not going to be a next time…” Rose said, feeling exhausted. She couldn’t even summon the energy to blame her friend for getting her into this situation, as it had been Scarlett’s idea that Rose created a profile on one of the online dating sites.

Scarlett examined the bottle. There was only a splash left in there. “I’ve heard that before,” She muttered under her breath and glanced at Rose’s glass, which was half empty, and then shrugged before proceeding to pour the rest of their white wine into her own glass.

Rose narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“What?” Scarlett shrugged innocently. “I have a better functioning liver.”

Rose turned to watch her friend properly. “How was _your_ evening?” They hadn’t really seen each other after work the day before – Rose was working from Monday to Friday in the coffee shop, but Scarlett worked only part time, as she had her apprenticeship at St Mungo’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in addition to Monday nights.

Scarlett groaned. “I swear it’s the most boring thing I’ve ever done – _counteractive charms –_ I mean, it would be great and all, if they’d actually _teach_ us, but _no_. Jefferson doesn’t think I can do more than read a book and answer his questions,” she grumbled, tossing down her drink in one, big gulp.

Rose gave her a sympathetic look, having heard enough of Scarlett’s supervisor – Healer Jefferson – to make the assumption that he was a big prat.

“Shame we don’t have more,” Scarlett muttered, before she placed her empty glass on the side table.

Rose let out a disapproving voice, before putting her own half-filled glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa, next to Scarlett’s feet. She glanced around them. Their small flat looked… remarkably untidier than it had been on Saturday, the last time she had properly sat down and looked around.

“Did you clean the flat?” She asked from Scarlett, who had stood up and summoned her coat from the hall, before taking a step towards the balcony, supposedly going for a smoke, “Scar…?” Rose asked pointedly.

Scarlett’s shoulders hunched a little, and she sighed, turning back to look at Rose, a sheepish look on her face. _Now_ was the time Rose wanted to raise a single eyebrow at her friend. Last week had been Scarlett’s turn to clean up the place.

Scarlett lifted her hands up in surrender. “Fine!” She grumbled, and turned back towards the balcony. “I’ll handle it tomorrow after work!”

Rose pursed her lips as her friend closed the door to the balcony behind her. Her eyes moved over the room, and stopped at the kitchen table that was filled with piles of parchment, paper, glasses, and miscellaneous items. Letting out a sigh, Rose stood up. It would take less than thirty minutes to get everything sorted up: the kitchen table, the mountain of dishes stacked on the kitchen counter, the floors, the two bathrooms – one of which was a small en-suite in Rose’s bedroom – and the narrow hallway. Her own room was always spotless, quite the opposite than Scarlett’s, which resembled much of something that was a result of an explosion. After a week living together, Rose had told Scarlett that their weekly house cleaning routine did not extend into their bedrooms, as Rose would’ve preferred taking a mild curse over having to step into Scarlett’s room.

Their flat wasn’t large, but the layout provided more space with the open-plan kitchen and sitting room, as did the white walls and light wooden floors. And they had their own rooms, so neither of them had to sleep in the sitting room – which was helpful as their schedules didn’t always match. On top of things, their flat was in a good location in Bermondsey, in a muggle area, near the Southwark Park, and close to many pubs, cafes, a leisure centre and a cinema, where they’d been a handful of times to see movies. They didn’t have a fireplace, so floo-travelling was out of the question, but they could always Apparate – and Rose preferred Apparition over floo-travel anyway.

She started with the kitchen, and after five minutes, Scarlett joined her, elbowing Rose to stop and let her do what she was supposed to do.

“You’re too kind, you know that, right?” Scarlett asked with a wry look as Rose shrugged and went to take care of the bathroom, waving her hand in dismissal.

Five minutes later, there was a knock against the kitchen window.

“Is that your brother’s?” Scarlett quipped, and as Rose came back to the kitchen, she saw the familiar brown-white tawny owl – _India –_ which was in fact Hugo’s owl.

“Oh, yes, let her in,” Rose said, and Scarlett opened the window. The owl flew straight to sit on Rose’s outstretched arm. “Hey, girl,” Rose murmured, taking the letter from the owl’s beak. “Do we have any treats?” She asked from Scarlett, and opened the letter at the same time, her eyes skimming over the text.

She hadn’t seen Hugo in over a month, more due to his tight schedule than hers. Hugo too was training in St Mungo’s to become a Healer, but he was studying full days from Monday to Friday, and assisting in the Accidental spells and Emergencies department several nights a week. He had graduated from Hogwarts five months ago, like Scarlett – they had even been in the same house – and already he was working himself into exhaustion. Rose was glad that he was at least still living at home with their mum, and not on his own. She wasn’t sure if he would remember to eat or sleep otherwise.

Her mouth curved slightly as she read her brother’s rather detailed description of an incident in the Burrow the previous week, where he had gone to visit their grandparents without letting them know beforehand that he was coming. She rolled her eyes at Hugo’s complaints regarding his eyes that were now apparently scarred for life. But then, as she read on, all the amusement she was feeling vanished with a blink of an eye, and was replaced by disinclination.

“…Bloody hell,” She groaned quietly.

Scarlett’s head whipped back to Rose’s direction. “What? What?” She asked, taking a couple of quick steps towards her friend, trying to peer at the parchment.

“It’s Albus’s birthday,” Rose said, and glanced up at Scarlett with a grimace on her face. “There’s a party.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly. Rose knew exactly how excited her friend was, and knew how she was desperately trying to cover it up with nonchalance. “Oh?” Scarlett asked indifferently.

Rose smirked. “’Oh’?” She repeated, giving her friend a knowing look, before looking back at the letter. “He’s expecting an answer…” She said, reluctantly, as Scarlett fed India a couple of treats from the pouch they kept in the kitchen drawer.

“So?” Scarlett asked, arching one of her perfect brows again.

Rose huffed. India was pressing its claws more tightly against Rose’s arm. “So, I don’t exactly want to go,” She said and pursed her lips. _Trust bloody Hugo to twist her arm like that_ , she thought, as she read Hugo’s carefully selected words at the end of the letter. Rose showed her friend the letter.

The room was echoing with Scarlett’s screams of delight a second later. “He’s asking if I’m coming as well!” Scarlett screamed, nearly shaking with enthusiasm. “Oh, Rose, we _have_ to go! _He’s_ there! We simply have to!” Scarlett sang, twirling around once, the letter tight against her chest.

Rose gave her friend the most unimpressed look she could summon.

“Oh, Rose! He’ll be there, you know he’ll –”

“Circe’s sake, stop singing Scar!” Rose said irritably, and snatched the letter back when her friend made another spin in the middle of their kitchen.

Yes, Rose’s friend had the most annoying crush ever, and it didn’t seem to go away. The only wizard – the _only_ other person Scarlett ever talked about, was –

“ _James_ is there!”

Rose sighed, summoned her self-inking quill from the coffee table and placed the parchment on the counter. She scribbled a quick ‘Fine we’ll be there. I hope your eyes are sore.’ under Hugo’s words, as India hopped onto the table. She rolled up the letter before giving it back to the owl.

“Bite him,” Rose whispered to the owl, which merely blinked, before shooting off from the open window into the darkness.

Rose felt the start of a headache forming in the back of her head. Albus’s birthday. Which meant that James and his annoying lackeys, and not to mention the maddening bimbos who seemed to appear everywhere he went were going to be present.

See, James was a Chaser for the Montrose Magpies, and was quite brilliant – something Rose acknowledged begrudgingly. James had been picked out straight from school, and while he had been an excellent Chaser and Captain for his house team at Hogwarts, he had become even better during the nearly three and a half years he had been playing professionally, helping his team to win the league every year since he had joined them. And on top of that the following year James would be playing Chaser for the English National Team at the Quidditch World Cup.

Obviously, some of James’s fame stemmed from who his parents were, but he was a handsome young man, and a natural on a broom. Rose wasn’t jealous that James was famous, or that he was an excellent player. No, Rose was jealous that James knew what he wanted, ever since they had been young kids. And James had everything he ever wished for, whereas Rose, well, she was trying to figure it out – what exactly it was that she wanted to do with her life.

Rose also knew her other cousins would be attending Albus’s party, which was another reason to the pile of not wanting to go. The last time she had spent a night out with Dominique and Roxanne, all that her cousins had been talking about was how their careers had been moving upwards, when either of them would be expecting a raise, and going on and on about some dull sounding old Ministry gammons. Rose was certain that she would once again receive the looks of pity and some backhanded comments how they supposedly envied Rose for doing what she wanted, and not caring if she wasn’t successful in life.

And besides James and his irritating fan club, and Rose’s irritating cousins, since it was Albus’s birthday, there was no doubt that Scorpius would be there as well, since he and Albus were inseparable – they never were anything but. And Scorpius was one of the main reasons Rose didn’t want to go. The reason she really, _really_ dreaded to go.

“So, we’re going?” Scarlett asked, her voice high-pitched, a huge grin on her face.

Rose couldn’t stop the short laughter bubbling out of her, after seeing her friend’s expression. She had it bad for Rose’s cousin. Too bad James would never even look at her direction, Rose thought wearily. If James was ever seen with a woman – which only ever happened when he was three sheets to the wind drunk – it was always one of those imbecile blondes who didn’t seem to have any cells left in their brain. He also never went out with the same woman more than once. While Scarlett might’ve fit the picture on the outside, she was way too sharp and witty on the inside for James.

“Yeah. Saturday. Eight pm. The Gun,” Rose grunted, while Scarlett cheered. “You’re _really_ annoying me, you know that, right?” She said with a tight voice, pressing two fingers against her temple.

Scarlett blew a raspberry, “Grinch.” She muttered lightly, before resuming to take care of the mountains of dishes with the help of her wand.

Rose scoffed, pinched her friend’s arm, and escaped back to the bathroom before Scarlett was able to do more than shriek a very cross swear word at her.

Later that night when Rose was lying in her bed under the covers her room dark and her wand on her nightstand ready to wake her up in the morning, her thoughts went back to the upcoming party the following weekend.

Scorpius would probably be there with his perfectly trimmed hair, in his perfectly sleek outfit that reeked of money, and… and a beautiful, model-like woman hanging onto his arm. It had been like that every time she had seen him after school or heard about him from Lily.

It had been Rose who had broken it up with Scorpius, and had insisted that dating would be a hindrance to them both after they graduated and moved to pursue their careers. Scorpius had been very… stoic and indifferent about it, as if he had been expecting it to happen. He hadn’t spoken to her afterwards, even though Rose had made him promise that they’d stay friends.

They hadn’t.

Scorpius had quickly moved on to the next girlfriend, only a week after their breakup, and only a month before the school had ended. The only problem had been, that the girlfriend in question had been Rose’s friend, Brittany. Which had been somewhat a blow under Rose’s belt.

Brittany was the most stunning girl in their school, probably the most stunning girl Rose had ever met: with her white-gold shining hair, with her beautiful periwinkle blue eyes and perfect body. Brittany was also funny, lovely, and there wasn’t a person she didn’t get along with. She had been adored by many, many boys during their years in Hogwarts, and she had dated many of them, always needing to be with someone. However, Rose would have never thought that she would take on a relationship over their friendship. But she did, and at that point, Rose didn’t know which hurt her more – Brittany betraying her, breaking up their friendship and crushing all the trust and fondness that had built between them for years, or Scorpius who actually started a relationship with one of Rose’s closest friends.

Needless to say, Rose had been crushed by the events – filled by hurt and anger and…regret. Because she had started to regret her decision. She had wanted Scorpius back. She had regretted it every time she saw the two of them together, laughing in the corridors, kissing in the courtyard, looking so happy, so…in love. Rose had wanted that – she had realised that Scorpius had been what she wanted, not a career, not excelling in her studies after Hogwarts. She had managed to catch Scorpius alone one night, only days before their graduation.

He had outright turned her down. He had told her – rather cruelly, in Rose’s opinion – that she should’ve held onto him when she had the chance, and that she ought to remember that the next time she strung someone along for over a year. Then Scorpius had merely turned his back to her and marched away.

Their first meeting after school had been… excruciating. To Rose. No, certainly not to Scorpius.

It had been one of James’s parties with his Quidditch mates, in a small two-storey house James had just bought for himself with the gold he’d got from his renewed contract at the end of the previous summer, over a year ago. And everyone had gone there; Rose, Hugo, Lily, Albus, Dominique, Fred, Roxanne, Lucy and Molly, along with many of James’s friends, and of course: Scorpius and his new girlfriend.

Rose had heard from Lily over the summer, that Scorpius’s and Brittany’s relationship had not been a long-lasting one – they had broken up less than a month after graduation, and by the end of the summer, Scorpius had been seen with many different girls. By that time Rose hadn’t been speaking to either of them, and had kept her distance even to Albus who rarely was seen without Scorpius. Rose had occasionally seen Lily, until she had returned back to school when September arrived. Rose had been hesitant to go to the party, knowing that Scorpius would be there – she didn’t want to see him, or to let him see how she hadn’t figured out what to do after graduation, even though she had graduated with top marks, and had had great plans regarding her life after Hogwarts.

Her fears had been quite unnecessary. Scorpius had merely nodded at her and looked away, like she was some distant acquaintance – or a friend of one of his friends. Someone, he vaguely knew of.

And perhaps she was exactly that.

Scorpius had also had a new blonde, quite beautiful girl glued to his side, giggling loudly to anything he let out from his mouth, gazing at him with such affection that Rose wanted to gag.

Which she did, three hours later, after engaging into a drinking game with one of James’s friends.

 _Nick_.

Nick was always challenging everyone to the most moronic things. In a normal situation Rose would have probably turned her nose up to him, but after seeing Scorpius and – whatever her name was – it had stung. Also knowing that everyone knew that Rose was a failure and that she worked in a coffee shop instead of pursuing her career like James, Fred, Molly, Scorpius, Dominique, Roxanne and Albus had done the moment they had graduated, Rose had decided to make an idiotic decision, and for once, she was very much aware that nothing good would follow from it, but she had decided to do it anyway.

Rose had only vague images from the latter part of the night. But she was fairly certain that at some point she had been in James’s bedroom with Nick, snogging him like their lives depended on it. They had been interrupted, and then…Rose had been sick.

It wasn’t the greatest moment of her life, certainly not. She recalled Albus getting somewhat narky at her as he had brought her home after she had successfully emptied her stomach onto James’s rug. It hadn’t been until two months after the party, when Albus had finally started to talk to her again without a certain tightness in his voice.

After the party, Rose had continued her life as it was, and had kept in touch with most of her cousins – at least the ones in whose company she didn’t feel like a complete disappointment. Well, perhaps James had been the exception, but she knew that there were very few people who didn’t feel a bit inadequate in James’s company. And James had other features that made up for it – like the way he always made Rose smile, even after relentlessly teasing her.

But of course, her cousins had their own lives and their own relationships, jobs and even families, as Molly informed later that spring – six months ago – that she was expecting. _And_ John, Molly’s boyfriend, had asked her to marry him. Rose was happy for them, she really was. However, there had been a small, a miniscule, empty spot in her chest, yelling at her that _she_ didn’t have any of those things, and she might never get them. Rose had eventually decided to disregard the voice and remain happy for Molly, since she had always been kind and encouraging with Rose. The decision hadn’t been difficult especially since Molly had asked Rose to be the godmother to their son, who was expected to be born in the beginning of December. Which was less than a month away.

Molly had also very carefully once asked Rose, if she still wanted to study something. Rose hadn’t known how to answer to her cousin.

Because Rose _had_ wanted to study in a muggle university, like her mother had done after her Hogwarts years – but it hadn’t gone as she had planned. Rose had botched up her exams by overthinking, by stressing over everything, and, to her utter dismay: by pining over Scorpius. Rose had spent the summer after her graduation mostly lying in a bed in a cottage her mother had bought after divorcing Rose’s father. Staying at her mother’s place had been the obvious choice, since Rose didn’t have a place to study, and she didn’t have a job. Staying with her father was out of the question: he lived in Manchester, which was too long a distance to Apparate without ease. He also lived a bit of a hectic life with his wife Lavender and Rose’s half-sister Jasmine, who had been a little over a year and a half then.

Rose’s parents had naturally encouraged her to try to apply again to the university, and to consider if there was something else she wanted to do. But somehow, Rose had found herself stuck in place, not really knowing what she wanted to do with her life. She knew she wanted to do _something_ : she wanted to live on her own, and not to ask for money from her mother. So, she had taken a job at a coffee shop a month after her graduation, and two months later she had finally rented her first flat. Which had been a horrible rat hole with one room that served as the sitting room, bedroom and the kitchen. There was a small bathroom which all her guests refused to use, since it was somewhat difficult to move in the narrow space. Rose had been grateful that she was a small witch.

Moving into the flat she shared with Scarlett now had certainly been an upgrade.

With a sigh, Rose forced herself to empty her mind and go to sleep. It was already late, and she had an early shift the next day. There was still time to stress over the upcoming party.


	2. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh is it Sunday already? Oh Yesss it is! Enjoy everyone! :)  
> ...This one will be from Rose's POV again, but next week's chapter is from Albus's!

**Chapter 2: Rose**

**Saturday, 8 November, 2025**

Rose stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. She looked just fine. At least, that was how she tried to reassure the voice of doubt inside her head.

“Circe, you look – _banging!_ ” Scarlett exclaimed, rushing to stand next to Rose, her green eyes moving intently over Rose’s features.

Rose grimaced, looking down and then back at the mirror. She was wearing one of the few dresses she owned: a short black cocktail dress with black leather bodice and gold grommet details. The dress had a v-neckline with wide shoulder straps and the skirt was rather short, but what she was hesitant about, were the black heels she was wearing. They were rather cute, but Rose was still dreading the moment she was expected to move her feet.

Her makeup was dark and smoky, her lips dark red, and her hair was straight and sleek, pulled back into a ponytail, completing her somewhat edgy look. It was all Scarlett’s doing. Most days Rose didn’t even bother with makeup, and only spelled her hair into submission – but whenever Scarlett agreed to do Rose’s makeup for her, Rose was all on board.

“Don’t know about the shoes, though…” Rose muttered, already picturing it: how she was going to wobble in her heels and possibly embarrass herself in the process, while casting at least a dozen cushioning and healing charms to her feet throughout the night.

Scarlett let out a disregarding sound and waved her hand, “They’re _fine_ , Rose!” She said, and then nudged Rose to the side, forcing her to take a couple of staggering steps to make room for Scarlett. “Now. How do _I_ look? You think he’ll notice me?” Scarlett asked, while giving herself a once over.

Scarlett was stunning: she wore a short silvery dress made of flowy and glimmering material, fitting her perfectly. The neckline was not too plunging, but the back of the dress was open – her long slim back on full display. Scarlett’s ashy blonde hair was straightened like Rose’s, but she had left her hair open, falling down her shoulders. Scarlett too was wearing a rather dark eye makeup, but no lipstick.

“You’re beautiful, as always,” Rose said with a smile, and then gave her friend a grimace, “However, about James –”

Scarlett snorted. “I _know_ , Rose,” She said with a meaningful look and pursed her lips before she continued. “Not gonna hold my breath for that one,” She muttered under her breath.

Rose sighed. “It’s just that…you don’t even know him…” She said with a small frown, watching Scarlett’s features carefully. “All you know, he could be a – a prat.”

Scarlett arched a brow at Rose. “He _is_ kind of a prat, isn’t he?”

Rose twisted her mouth defeatedly. “Yeah, well, he has his moments… But that’s what I’m trying to say – that he isn’t like you picture him.”

“How do I picture him?” Scarlett asked, her expression something between curiosity and amusement.

Rose rolled her eyes, tilting her hip. “Well, you know, like he’s some – some hero or something, saving the world with his Quidditch skills –”

Scarlett huffed, “That was _one_ fanfic, thank you very much! And for your information, he _and his team_ saved the wizarding world by winning the match against the Death Eaters,” Scarlett said pointedly. “I mean, all the others I’ve read were not that tragical, and merely pure romance.”

Rose took in a deep breath through her nose, counting to five in her head. “Please stop reading fanfiction about my cousin – and for the love of Merlin, do not mention it to _anyone_ tonight,” Rose said tightly, keeping her voice level, keeping herself still, even though she wanted to grab Scarlett and shake the weird obsession out of her. Rose was already thinking at least a dozen scenarios how Scarlett would blurt that sort of thing out, and make everyone very, _very_ uncomfortable.

Scarlett shrugged and turned to look at the mirror again, running her fingers through her hair. “Would be worth it though, to see their faces…” But as she saw Rose's expression, that had turned from teeth gritting to downright seething, she hastily continued, “I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut!”

As the girls were finished getting ready, they put their things together – including their wands – and opened a bottle of chardonnay. Scarlett sipped her wine and took her phone from the table.

“Walk or apparate?” She asked, already scrolling through the social media sites.

Rose didn’t have a profile on any of those, but Scarlett had profiles on everything and was somewhat hooked, spending many hours a week merely scrolling through pictures and videos. The only profile Rose had on internet, was the dating site profile, which she was now very much contemplating to delete.

Rose swallowed down the mouthful of wine and shook her head. “It’s at least an hour walk from here – so _apparition.”_ She said pointedly, nodding at her feet, that were already starting to ache a bit in the heels.

She didn’t know how Scarlett managed it – wearing even higher heels than Rose and not complaining a bit, as Scarlett too preferred trainers and flats over heels.

“Oh! I forgot to ask – how was the date?” Scarlett said, finishing her glass, and immediately pouring more.

She filled Rose’s glass as well while Rose groaned and closed her eyes.

“That bad, huh?” Scarlett asked, surprised. “I thought he was a decent bloke? Didn’t you even say you had a crush on him?

Rose glared at Scarlett. “Bad doesn’t even begin to describe last night. And yes – I _had_ a crush.”

She had been on a date the previous night. The guy – Tom – had been about her age, okay looking and sweet. They had been texting and sending pictures for some weeks before the date, and finally had set up a date that suited both their calendars. Tom was a Flight Attendant, and had always been somewhere else in the world when Rose had had a suitable night to see him – she had most nights off but not every day was a day she felt ready for socialising and meeting new people.

Rose had been waiting for the date and had been very eager to finally meet Tom and to hear all the exciting stories he sometimes told her about his travels in their messages, but this time it would have been face to face. She had even agreed to meet him for dinner – something she rarely did. Because it was Tom, and she was sure it would go well.

It hadn’t gone as she had thought. At all.

Rose sighed. “He – well –” There really wasn’t an easy way to say it. “He shat his pants.”

Scarlett was unfortunately in mid swig of a hefty amount of wine, and it went down the wrong way. She turned purple, her eyes watering as she kept her mouth closed. The next second, she started to choke and snorted air madly in and out, and finally, projectiled the chardonnay straight onto their white rug, laughing wildly.

“H-He – w-what…?!” Scarlett shrieked, between hiccupping and laughing. “H-He – h-he – _w-what?!_ ”

Rose rolled her eyes, the incident still too horrible and embarrassing that she could laugh at it. “Yes, he did,” Rose said sharply, shaking her head. “He was – I dunno – nervous or something.” Rose said, taking in a large mouthful of wine, trying to wash away the disappointment and the awful memory. She felt bad for Tom, of course, but she rather hoped to forget the whole night. “He didn’t say anything – I mean, he wasn’t at all like he was when we were texting. He barely said a word, and then there was this – _smell_ , and everyone in the restaurant was looking around them, trying to place it, and –”

And if Scarlett was laughing before, she was now outright screeching with amusement.

“ – when I finished eating – which, let me tell you, was a miracle with the smell – he told me he was sorry, and – and he stood up, and ran to the bathroom.” Rose said, remembering the shock when she had seen his backside and the wet spot on his chair. It had been disgusting.

And it had been so, _so_ embarrassing. _Everyone_ had stared at Rose, and Rose had quickly paid their dinners and left. She had texted Tom, later that night, asking if he was okay, and telling him that perhaps they ought not to see each other anymore.

He hadn’t answered.

Scarlett finally managed to get a grip of herself, her laughter diminishing into quiet sniggering. She pulled out her wand from her small purse and cast a cleaning charm to their rug, before turning to Rose, her eyes dancing, but her expression sombre.

“I’m sorry, Rose.” Scarlett said, and Rose had to give it to her friend – Scarlett tried her best. “It must’ve been…a _shitty_ date _.”_

Rose scowled at Scarlett, who was in the middle of another laughing fit.

* * *

“Merlin, my feet are killing me,” Rose grumbled as they started to walk towards the front of the pub.

They had apparated straight into a secluded corner in the pub’s back garden, knowing that Albus had arranged it so that no one – not muggles, at least – was around to watch.

Scarlett smirked at Rose and was about to say something, but Rose grabbed her, yanking her backwards while staring at the front of the pub.

“What – oh.”

They had reached the corner and saw Scorpius with his date, stepping into the pub. Rose let go of Scarlett’s arm and let out a weary sigh. She had managed to avoid him for a long time, and now, she was going to be in the same room, having dinner, and remain politely distant to him. Which wasn’t that hard, but at the same time, it was.

Scarlett eyed Rose for a moment and to her benefit, she didn’t say anything but merely took Rose’s hand in hers and pulled her forward.

“I’m starving. And I might get too drunk if I don’t eat anything.” Scarlett said lightly, giving Rose a wink.

Rose had of course told Scarlett about her history with Scorpius, but even though she hadn’t gone into a great detail regarding how she felt about the blonde Slytherin nowadays, Rose was rather certain her friend knew enough to draw conclusions. And it wasn’t like Rose was still pining after him, but… he was still there, under her skin.

“Rosie!” Hugo said as soon as Rose and Scarlett stepped into the small entrance hall with open doors to left and right: to the pub and to the dining room. The hallway continued behind Hugo, ending with a staircase.

Hugo pulled Rose into a crushing hug, and then turned to Scarlett. “And my favourite Ravenclaw!” He said brightly.

“Don’t say things like that in public, tosspot,” Scarlett said and punched Hugo on his shoulder, and he merely laughed, grabbed her hand and swirled her around before releasing her. Scarlett rolled her eyes at him.

Hugo chuckled and smiled at Rose, his eyes moving over her attire as she took off her coat. “You look…nice.”

Scarlett snorted, shedding away her own long coat. “Always shocking us with your compliments,” Scarlett murmured.

Hugo shrugged. “You look nice too, Scar,” He said with a sweet smile. “And it’s not like I’m gonna tell my sister she’s fit. Who knows what she’d think of herself after that…” he said teasingly.

Rose gave him the two-finger salute, while her eyes moved over his frame. He was thinner than she remembered, but still looked healthy. Hugo was wearing dark fitted jeans and a white formal shirt, paired with high top trainers and a huge grin on his face. He looked very smart. And Rose realised how much she had missed her brother, knowing that they didn’t see each other nearly as often as she would have liked.

Hugo instructed Rose and Scarlett to take the stairs from the back of the hall, explaining that he was waiting for Albus’s workmates since they hadn’t been at the pub before. “Everyone else is already there,” Hugo said as the girls moved along the hall, towards the stairs. Albus had booked a private room upstairs for the night.

They were silent as they walked up the stairs and stepped through the door on the left.

“Rose!” Dominique called from the table, where she and most of the guests were already sitting at.

Rose smiled at her cousin and looked around the room. She had been in the pub before but not in the room upstairs. It was large enough for a small group – twenty seats, she quickly counted. The walls were cream coloured and accentuated with dark blue, there were large mirrors on both ends of the room to make it seem more spacious, and the view was amazing behind the windows across her, opening up to the Thames.

She looked over the people inside the room, and most of them were looking at her and Scarlett with a mix of curiosity and delight. “Hey everyone,” Rose said, waving her hand a bit, feeling slightly awkward. She kept her gaze decidedly away from Scorpius and his date, who were sitting at the end of the table, chatting with Albus, James and Fred. “This is Scarlett,” She said and nodded at her friend, who seemed not to be as uncomfortable as Rose was.

Scarlett grinned and greeted everyone with a nod, her eyes flickering at James for a second, before moving to Teddy, who had stood up from his seat closest to them and was walking up to them.

Teddy was a handsome and tall man: his hair was pitch black, he wore glasses, and his nose was longer than the last time Rose had seen him. He looked like he could’ve been Harry Potter’s son. Teddy was a Metamorphmagus – something Rose had always envied a lot in him – and usually looked a bit different, a bit softer and lighter. Rose figured he had changed his appearance for the occasion.

“Teddy. Nice to meet you,” Teddy said with a charming smile, shaking Scarlett’s hand, and then moved to pull Rose into a hug.

“God, it’s been ages,” He murmured, and stood back to give her a once over. “You’re all grown up. Last time I saw you, you were this small,” Teddy said, grinning as he put his hand in the air, somewhere close to his waist.

“Stop with the dad jokes, love. You’re not _that_ much older than her,” Victoire said with a wry look aimed at her husband.

Victoire was the oldest of Rose’s cousins, having turned twenty-five last spring. She was breath-takingly beautiful: her golden hair seemed to shimmer even when she wasn’t under sunlight, she had blue eyes and long eyelashes, and she always smiled. Even – and Rose had given it a lot of thought – when she was cheesed off about something.

Teddy, who was sort of part of their family – being Rose’s uncle’s godson – was twenty-seven.

“Good to see you, Rose,” Victoire said with a sweet smile, leaning to kiss Rose on both of her cheeks.

She was elegant like that, something Rose had never managed – not that she had even tried. Her dad had always said it was rubbish, or a French-thing. Victoire was also heavily pregnant, like Molly, who too had stood up and joined their little group.

“Wow, you’re so –” Rose said as she stared at Victoire’s baby bump, and stopped before she blurted it out, knowing very well that _huge_ was the wrong word there.

“ – _Glowing_?” Scarlett quipped next to Rose, smirking as she saw the look of satisfaction on Victoire’s face, and the relief on Rose’s.

Victoire arched a brow at Scarlett. “Nicely saved. I like you already.”

They kept chatting a bit, Rose hugged Molly, and shook hands with John, her fiancé – who had both met Scarlett earlier. They were soon forced to move forward and take their seats at the table as Hugo and Albus’s friends from work came blundering behind them.

Dominique, Roxanne and Lucy sat on the opposite side of the table, with their backs against the windows. The three girls had also met Scarlett before, so they simply waved at Rose and her friend. Both Dominique and Lucy had their boyfriends sitting next to them – Rose hadn’t seen either of them, but had heard some bits and pieces about them. Mark and Scott, she thought absently, before she was grabbed from behind, and swung around in the air – which was a bit unnerving, with her short skirt and all. Rose screamed in surprise, and then she was placed down and turned around to face her attacker.

“My favourite cousin!” Albus exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Rose and looking at her with a wide grin on his face.

Rose lifted her brows at him as she heard at least five affronted ‘hey’s’ uttered behind her. “So _I’m_ the favourite cousin today, huh?” Rose asked, amused by the sheepish look on Albus’s face.

“Ya bet.” Albus said, his eyes moving up and down her. “You’ve cleaned up nicely, cousin. Didn’t almost recognise you.”

Albus too had put an effort into his appearance: his longish black hair was artfully tousled, and he was wearing slim-fitted navy trousers and a stripe shirt, paired with brown Oxford shoes. Rose narrowed her eyes and pinched his arm, which caused the birthday boy to yelp in pain.

“Ow, Rosie!” Albus hissed, but then turned to look at Scarlett, grinning. “Hey Scar. Looking good.”

Scarlett nodded at Albus. “Not looking too bad yourself,” She said simply.

Albus was one of the few of Rose’s cousins who had been at her place, and naturally, had met Scarlett before.

“Sit down, we’ll eat in a bit,” Albus said, squeezing Rose’s forearm before moving towards the door where his friends were still chatting with Hugo.

Rose fixed her eyes at the chair she had been eyeing before Albus had attacked her, the one opposite to Lucy, with empty seats on each side, but was interrupted once more.

“What’s this? Don’t I get a hug?” Fred called from her left.

Rose looked at Fred, and saw him, James, Scorpius and his girlfriend all staring at her. She shrugged, went to Fred – as the bastard was still sitting, not bothering to stand up – and leaned down to give him a quick hug.

She straightened, and before James was able to say anything, Rose shook her head at him. “No, not hugging you.”

James looked affronted. “Why wouldn’t you hug me?” He asked with a chuckle.

Rose narrowed her eyes at her cousin. “Last time I hugged you, you grabbed my arse.”

Nearly everyone around them burst in laughter. Even Scorpius snorted – which Rose firmly ignored – and James sniggered. “It was a joke, Rose – I was rather pissed if I remember correctly.”

Rose sniffed. “I do hope so, for your sake. Come on, Scar,” Rose said to her friend, and pulled her to the other end of the room, where they took the empty seats next to Victoire and Teddy, who were sitting at the end of the table.

“Circe, I’m dying, Rose,” Scarlett murmured under her breath, trying to keep her laughter in check. “James Potter grabbed his cou –”

“ _Scar._ ” Rose growled with warning in her voice, interrupting her friend. “Shut it.”

Hugo, Albus and his workmates who were introduced as Nathan, Emma and Chase joined them, before Albus took his seat at the other end of the table, next to Scorpius. Hugo sat next to Rose, while Albus’s workmates sat between Hugo and Fred.

People were chattering a bit: Rose inquired Molly how she was holding up and when she would be starting her maternity leave. Molly told her she was doing fine, but was sick of being pregnant, and was hoping it was over already. She would be starting her maternity leave in two weeks, if nothing came up before that. Molly explained that the Ministry had offered her to start her leave earlier, but she had wanted to finish all the unfinished transcriptions – Molly was a Court Scribe in the Wizengamot court proceedings – and so it had been agreed that she would start her leave two weeks before the due date. They also talked a bit about how things were at John’s shop – he owned a bookshop on Diagon – while Scarlett and Victoire discussed the wizarding district in Paris. Rose had put her friend close to Victoire on purpose, since she knew both Scarlett and Victoire were partly French and thought that they could get along easily, as both visited their relatives in France whenever they could. Victoire and Teddy were also both polite and easy to talk to.

Then the food arrived and everyone was focusing on eating. Everything was fine, Rose was actually enjoying herself a bit, but she knew the moment was due any moment – when one of her cousins would ask about her life, thinking that she had something new and exciting to tell them. She was already dreading that moment.

After finishing the quite delicious meal – tiger prawns for starters and chicken schnitzel for main – Rose emptied her glass of wine and glanced over at Lucy, her boyfriend Scott, and Hugo, who were in a loud conversation about something regarding Hogwarts. Rose wasn’t really interested – it was over a year when she had graduated and it felt like such a long time since her school years, but to Lucy, Hugo and Scarlett, it was only five months ago. Her eyes moved over to Dominique and her boyfriend Mark, who sat next to Scott.

And that was her mistake.

“So, Rose, how are you? Still working at the coffee shop?” Dominique asked, sipping red wine from her glass, looking perfect, as always.

Dominique resembled her sister: She too had a long, golden hair, flawless skin and body, but she was much more serious than Victoire – Dominique didn’t smile just to anyone. She rarely wanted to please others, unless she wanted something herself. Rose didn’t have anything against Dominique, but they were not close – had never been. Rose was a lot closer to James, Albus and Lily, than she was to Dominique and Roxanne, and she thought it was partly because both Dominique and Roxanne had been in the Ravenclaw house, whereas Rose, James and Lily were in Gryffindor. But mostly it was because their parents were who they were. The golden trio.

Rose and Hugo had spent a lot of time in their childhood with the Potters, a lot more than with any other Weasley family member.

Rose saw several pairs of eyes glancing at her, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah. Still there.” She said with a tight smile, tasting ash in her mouth. “And you?”

“But – you’re still going to study?” Interrupted Roxanne, who sat next to Dominique. She looked bewildered.

Rose gritted her teeth, knowing fully well that neither Dominique or Roxanne were asking their questions to hurt her, since Rose hadn’t really opened up about her situation to her cousins, and all they knew, was that a little over a year ago, Rose had been adamant to make great efforts to achieve an education and a career after Hogwarts, and that she would definitely not have settled as something so mundane as working in a coffee shop. Which she had.

“No.” Rose said plainly, shrugging at Roxanne, feeling her spine tingling with unease.

Roxanne frowned at her. “So – you’re just – you’re just going to… work in a _coffee shop_?”

“So what?” Rose asked, a bit affronted. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Hugo glanced at Rose, before giving a hard look at Roxanne and Dominique. “Of course not,” he said pointedly.

Dominique shrugged, while Roxanne seemed a bit embarrassed. “Of course not!” Roxanne repeated quickly, and reached for the wine to fill the glasses on the table – her own and the one in front of the girl who sat next to her. Scorpius’s girlfriend. Rose could practically feel his eyes on her, even though she didn’t dare to look at him.

After all, she had left him for what? For a career at a coffee shop? Merlin, she needed to be drunk for this.

“So, how are you two? Still working at the IMC?” Rose asked from Dominique and Roxanne, eager to fill the uncomfortable silence. She knew they were working in the same jobs as the last time she had seen her cousins – the two of them had been working at the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the Ministry since their graduation, and most of their topics revolved around their jobs. Rose was certain she would’ve heard if one of them had moved onto a different job.

Dominique nodded eagerly, “Oh, yes. I’ll be working closely with our and the French Department of Magical Games and Sports during next year, since the World Cup –”

“Please, Dom, one night – _one –_ without the World Cup,” James groaned from his seat.

“ – Shut it, James,” Dominique quipped.

Rose leaned forwards so she was able to see him at the other end of the table and lifted her brows, “What, James Potter doesn’t want to talk about himself? Merlin forbid.” Rose said snarkily, knowing that since James was going to play for the English team in the World Cup next summer, his days were most likely filled with the topic already.

James raised two fingers. “Bugger off, Weasley.”

“ _Anyway,”_ Dominique continued with an eyeroll in her voice, “I’ll probably be travelling to France a lot during next spring, to oversee the arrangements and such…”

“ _She’ll be a dogsbody to her boss, she means,”_ Hugo whispered to Rose’s direction with a small grin, while Dominique kept on talking, unaware that Hugo had said anything, or that Rose and Scarlett were both struggling to keep straight faces.

When everyone had cleared their plates, and had a couple of rounds of drinks, it was close to midnight. The Thames was dark, and the city lights glimmered on its surface. And the debate about the afterparty location had started.

“Studio!” Lucy stated.

Roxanne shook her head at her cousin. “Let’s go to XOYO!”

Many were grumbling at that. In the end, Albus decided that they would go to Cargo, which was in Shoreditch. As everyone was more or less drunk, apparition was ruled out. So, they ordered a bunch of cabs, and after an excruciatingly long travel from Docklands to Shoreditch, and after a dreadfully long wait in the line, they were finally let inside the club.

Rose knew she should’ve gone home from the pub, for many reasons, but mostly because her shoes were killing her, and because James’s lackeys – which were his so-called friends, who only tagged along because he was famous – were at the club, as well as his admirers – a group of bimbos who were merely seeking their fifteen minutes of fame.

She knew they would be there, since James had invited them there. Because James – well, he enjoyed it, being famous.

Rose sat down with a huff, not really looking who was next to her, but only making sure she was as many seats away from James’s group of idiots – and, well, Scorpius – as possible.

“Fancy seeing you here, Rose,” Nick said next to her.

Rose’s head whipped to his direction at the same time she tried to give room for Scarlett, so that she could sit between Rose and Roxanne.

“Nick!” Rose said, surprised. She hadn’t thought he would be there, since he was an actual friend of James’s, and not one of those lackeys, but now that she looked around them at the long, L-shaped group of sofas, stretching over two walls, she saw that some of the people were James’s teammates and friends. “How are you?” Rose asked, a bit out of breath, nodding a greeting to a couple next to Nick – she didn’t remember their names but knew they were James’s schoolmates, like Nick.

“Alright, mate!” Fred yelled and lunged to give a quick hug and a clap on Nick’s back, before moving to do the same to the bloke and girl next to Nick. “Long time, no see,” Fred said to the three, grinning widely.

“Indeed,” Nick said, smirking at Fred. “Alright, Freddie?”

Fred kicked Nick on his shin. “Bloody git, next time gimme a call before marching into my flat like an utter knobhead.”

Nick sniggered. “Hey, we _did_ talk the night before,” he says with a shrug. “How was I supposed to know you’d forget? Or that you had company?”

Fred shook his head in exasperation, “I didn’t even remember where I lived the night before, so there was that…”

Rose snorted, and both Nick and the other guy laughed.

“I promise I’ll call next time.”

Fred started to talk with the couple on Nick’s right, and Nick turned his attention to Rose.

“Sorry,” he said with a small grimace, glancing at Fred. “I’m doing great. Still working for my father, nothing new there,” He said and smiled, his eyes sweeping down and up on Rose’s features. “You look good, Rose.”

Rose cleared her throat, feeling pleased, and murmured her thanks.

Nick glanced at Scarlett. “And who might this beautiful woman be?” He asked politely.

“Oh!” Rose said, scolding herself inwardly for forgetting her friend. “This is Scarlett. Scarlett, this is Nick,” Rose said, looking between the two of them.

Scarlett’s eyes flashed at Rose, but she shook Nick’s hand.

They talked with Nick for a while, what had been going on since the last time Rose and Nick had seen each other, which Rose thought was probably at James’s party, over a year ago.

“So… Did you two date?” Scarlett asked, a sly smirk curving her mouth, evidently remembering that Rose had told Scarlett about the party, and how she had been spending most of the night in James’s bedroom with Nick, their lips attached to one another.

Rose shook her head quickly. “No. We didn’t.”

Nick laughed quietly. “Yeah, we didn’t quite go there. I mean, Rose was busy shooting the cat when I asked her out.”

Rose felt her cheeks warming up, and from the corner of her eye she definitely saw Fred staring at her, as well as Roxanne, who was sitting on Scarlett’s other side. She was glad the music was blaring around them, and that no one else was in a hearing distance.

After some time, Scarlett grabbed Rose, ordering her to dance with her. Rose didn’t mind dancing, but it was dancing in her heels she minded. A lot. They made a quick stop to the loo, where Rose locked herself in a cubicle, performed a couple of pain relieving and healing charms to her feet, and then they made their way to the dance floor.

As soon as they got there, Rose knew exactly why Scarlett had dragged them there so abruptly – since Rose had been in mid-sentence, talking with Nick.

James was there, dancing with two women and two of his lackeys.

“Scar…” Rose grumbled, as her friend pulled her on, stopping right next to James.

“Rosie!” James quipped cheerfully after seeing her. He was a bit tipsy, but so were the rest of them. “Finally came to me with that hug, huh?” James said with a grin, pulling Rose towards him, and managing to twirl her around without letting her fall on her bum.

Scarlett joined them, and they formed a small dancing group with the three of them, while James’s friends and the girls danced next to them.

“Scarlett, right?” James yelled over the music, his eyes moving over Scarlett’s figure. “Nice dress,” he added with a wink.

Rose wanted to groan in exasperation. James was such a prat. But Scarlett was glowing, looking like she didn’t believe she was talking to James – or well, yelling – and was all smiles as she said her thanks and complimented him as well.

Rose danced, and then she saw it happen, saw how both James and Scarlett turned slightly towards each other, and Rose wanted to put a stop to it, knowing that her friend would only get hurt, knowing that James would not see her afterwards – because that is what he did.

But when Scarlett gave Rose a tiny shook of her head, indicating that she was fine, and Rose would better bugger off now and let her have her moment with James, Rose relented and left the dance floor.

She went to the bar, got her drink relatively quickly after a short wait, turned around and watched. She didn’t want to go back to the sitting area where all her cousins and James’s friends were. She wanted to spend time with Scarlett, but she knew that if James was being his usual self, Rose probably wouldn’t get a glimpse of her friend for the rest of the night.

Other than the glimpse she was getting now, which made her let out a disgusted sound as she saw what was happening on the dance floor. James was kissing Scarlett. They were dancing very closely to one another, as if forgetting that there were others around them.

“Bloody hell,” Rose groaned.

“What now?” Albus asked lightly, stepping next to Rose.

He was with Scorpius.

Rose’s eyes flickered over him, and moved quickly to Albus. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “James is – well, being James,” She said, feeling exasperated, jerking her chin at the dancefloor.

Both Albus and Scorpius looked and grimaced.

“Shit.” Albus grunted, taking a sip of his beer. “It’s definitely gonna be in the papers tomorrow…It’s not like we’re the only ones in here…” He muttered, giving Rose a pained look.

Rose and Albus both knew that even though their group probably was the only wizarding people there, it would be James’s lackeys and the bimbos who would spill the news to the wizarding papers. And while Albus worked for the Prophet, it wasn’t like he was able to prevent such a scoop from printing in other rags. James was a celebrity, and everything he did, was in the papers. James was also an idiot, since he was usually the one who invited such backstabbing ‘friends’ to their gatherings.

“Fuck…” Albus swore again as he looked at his brother, who was now tongue deep in Scarlett’s mouth. “Hold this.” He murmured to Scorpius, and marched towards the dancefloor.

There was a tense silence, at least it felt like that to Rose, even with the music pounding hard around them. Rose and Scorpius both stared at Albus, James and Scarlett, who were in the midst of having an intense discussion on the dancefloor, while other people were dancing wildly around them.

“How are you doing?” Scorpius asked suddenly, and Rose was forced to look at him.

 _Damn him_ , Rose thought, as she stared into his bright grey eyes.

Scorpius was as handsome as he had been when Rose had seen him the last time. Most of his hair was platinum blonde, but the roots were black – something Rose hadn’t seen before. It was a good look on him. His clothes were pristine as always: dark blue trousers and a black formal shirt. But the eyes were what Rose always remembered, whenever she thought of him: the deep, intense gaze, the flecks of grey and blue, the way they were emotionless at times, and then suddenly, revealing all of him at once. He had beautiful eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Rose blurted, and wanted to die on the spot. _What the hell was wrong with her?_ “I mean. I’m fine, thanks,” she croaked, looking away, feeling how her neck and cheeks were heating up.

From the corner of her eye she saw a flicker of a smile on his lips. Albus was now arguing with James on the dancefloor, waving his hands at his brother.

“So are you.” Scorpius said after a moment, his voice politely distant as he returned the compliment, and continued, “Just fine then?”

Rose breathed in a calming breath and looked at him. “Yeah. Working and… stuff.”

Scorpius’s brows twitched up. “Stuff?”

Rose felt her neck tingling with uncomfortableness. “Um. Well. Dating?” She said, even though it came out as a question. She didn’t know _why_ she had said it. Why she had told Scorpius, of all people, that she was dating…? She was quite sure it wasn’t information he was interested in.

“Oh? Anything serious?” Scorpius asked, taking a swig from his – Albus’s really – bottle, and he too looked around them, his gaze flickering to the dancefloor twice.

Rose racked her brain. What should she say to him? Just a ‘no’? Her mind went to the previous night, and for the first time, a burst of laughter erupted from her, as she thought of what had happened.

Scorpius arched a brow at her. “That serious?” He asked, looking somewhat amused.

Rose shook her head. “Definitely not.” She said and sniggered.

She told him about the date she went on the previous night.

Scorpius laughed so hard he was doubling up.

“Circe!” Scorpius choked, chuckling. “Only you, Rose,” He said with a faint voice, his body still shaking with laughter.

And Rose laughed with him. But only, she was laughing at the whole two-month dating period, during which she had been on the worst dates she could’ve imagined. She was also laughing, because Scorpius was laughing, and that was something she had missed. Something she hadn’t known she had needed.

She told him that she once went on a date with a man who had been out of his tree drunk from the start, and had vomited on her shoes.

Scorpius shook his head, sniggering. “Where do you _find_ these people?”

Rose shrugged innocently, but her focus was stolen by an abrupt shouting and movement, not far from them.

“Shit,” Rose and Scorpius both said at the same time, as they saw James yelling at his teammate of all people, and shoving him, on the edge of the dancefloor, in the middle of everyone. Rose and Scorpius practically ran towards the group surrounding them.

The teammate – Oliver, Rose thought – lifted his hands up and shook his head in disappointment, telling James to call him when he managed to pull his head out of his arse, before he took off.

Scorpius seemed to suddenly remember that he was in Rose’s company, and not his girlfriend’s, as he gave Rose a strange look, before telling her that he and _whatever her name was_ were leaving.

And James was seething. Albus pulled James aside for a while, and when they emerged back from outside of the club, James was quiet and impassive. He had also forgot Scarlett, and didn’t even look at her direction afterwards.

Scarlett was putting up a good show of not being bothered by James’s stunt, but Rose knew she was hurt. They sat together for a while, and after Albus gave Rose an apologising look, his eyes moving over to look at Scarlett, Rose suggested that they would go home.

Scarlett readily agreed.


	3. Albus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update! (it is Sunday where I am though, so...)  
> Enjoy :)

**Chapter 3: Albus**

**Saturday, 8 November, 2025**

Albus glanced at his wrist watch. “Shit…” he muttered. He was late, and he would have to cut the visit to his parents short, as he was due at the pub at midday to make the arrangements for the night.

He closed the backdoor to his – well, his and Emma’s – house behind him and locked it with a discreet spell before checking around him in the small garden. There were spells set up so that the neighbours remained oblivious to the sudden _cracks_ of Apparition, as well as the sudden disappearances and reappearances of people, but he still looked, every time. Albus had a fireplace, but he hated to travel by floo: it was messy, and it always made him sick.

And Apparition to and from his small garden in South Hampstead was relatively easy.

It would be a pity to give it and the house up one day, but he was quite certain his arrangement with Emma would not be a permanent one.

See, Emma didn’t really live in the house with Albus, even though Emma’s parents thought she did. They thought that Albus and Emma were a couple, and had been under the impression for many years, right after Emma had spoken about her housemate Albus one day during the school summer holidays. They of course never had been a couple, nor had they been anything else except friends, but Emma simply hadn’t corrected her parents about their assumption.

Then, after graduating and working together at the Prophet for some months, came a moment when Albus had wanted to move out from his parents’ house. Emma happened to have a place that had been empty for a while, as it simply wasn’t a possibility for Emma’s girlfriend Amanda to live in the house Emma’s parents owned – they would have found out. Emma had told Albus that he could live in the house, as long as he behaved himself and agreed to pretend to be her boyfriend in front of her parents.

Albus and Emma had even gone so far as to have occasional dinners with Emma’s parents – which had been dreadful but necessary to keep up their sham. Her parents didn’t believe in such things as being gay – it simply wasn’t an option for them, which Albus thought was kind of sad. But Albus knew it wasn’t really his problem. He naturally supported Emma, and wanted only good things for her and her girlfriend Amanda, but he also knew that Emma was fooling herself thinking she could live her life by lying to her parents.

He also knew that the moment Emma’s parents would find out that Emma was living with another woman, and that Albus was living in their house alone, they would send him packing and would curse his arse in the process.

Albus let out a long sigh, turned on the spot and apparated into his parents’ garden. It was quiet, and he glanced at the shed before making his way towards the house. He reckoned his father was either sleeping upstairs, or working on his odd projects in the shed – which he wasn’t really in the mood to witness at that moment.

“Al, honey,” His mother called from the kitchen as soon as Albus stepped into the drawing room through the back door, and walked towards the kitchen in the other side of the house.

“Happy birthday!”

“Hey Mum.” He grunted as his mother lunged towards him, squeezing him into a tight hug. “Thanks.”

He was taller than her – taller than his father too. James and Albus both were. His mother, Ginny, was a short and beautiful witch with flaming red hair and a sparkling temper – exactly like Albus’s little sister Lily.

Albus hadn’t seen his parents for a while, since he had been busy with work and seeing his friends.

“Twenty!” His mother breathed unsteadily. “How can my baby boy be twenty already!” She said, pulling back slightly, her eyes bright, as she held Albus on his place by his shoulders.

“Mum…” Albus groaned, feeling embarrassed.

“It’s good to see you,” His mother said, smiling widely, her eyes moving over his features. “You’re so handsome, Al,” she smirked, shoving him a bit before releasing him. “Tell me everything,” She then said, moving towards the counter and flicking her wand at the stack of pancakes, making them float onto the small round table in the corner, next to tall windows. “How’s work? How’s… Emma?”

Albus suppressed an eyeroll at the airy way his mother asked about his friend. “Work’s fine. Dunno how Emma is, I only see her at work, and we’re not exactly working in the same sections,” he said with a shrug, knowing that his mother wasn’t satisfied by his answer.

He slid a small pile of pancakes onto his plate, and spooned a hefty amount of marmalade on top of it, before starting to shove down the food.

He was in a bit of a hurry – it was well over ten after all.

“You heard from Lily?” Albus asked between mouthfuls, and looked at his mother, who was now leaning against the counter, a large mug of tea between her fingers, and a studying look trained at Albus.

She lifted a brow at him. “Yes, I have. She’s okay, can’t wait for Christmas to see everyone. So, you and Emma –”

“Mum, please. You know there’s nothing,” Albus said pointedly. “Emma’s gay, and I’m happy for her. I’m merely helping her out, so that she can continue lying to her parents who cannot accept their child for who she is,” Albus explained calmly.

His mother smiled and sighed. “You’re so decent… I wish everyone had a child like you.”

“ – and unless I grow a pair of tits and a vagina, I don’t see anything happening between us.”

His mother scowled at him. “I take it back. You’re an awful child. Please stop speaking before you drown me in shame.”

Albus grinned at his mother. “I love winding you up, so why stop there?”

His mother groaned, shaking her head. “So – not dating anyone?” She asked, after sitting down opposite to Albus and flicking her wand to summon a mug of tea for him.

He shook his head. “Mum… you know I don’t believe in relationships or marriage. Accept the fact that I won’t have one. I love my life as it is. I love my job, my friends, my family,” he said and shrugged. “I don’t need anything else.”

She sighed, looking disappointed.

Albus snorted. “You have two other kids – go bother them with the speech of needing grandkids.”

His mother looked shocked, but then pursed her lips. “James – no hope. Lily – definitely not yet,” she muttered sourly, and then let her eyes rest on Albus’s features.

“You look good. You look happy.”

Albus chuckled. “I am.”

“You’re excited about tonight?” She asked, pushing the stack of pancakes towards him.

Albus sighed and took another small pile onto his plate. Anything to make his mother happy. He nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “Yeah, I am. Everyone’s coming. We’ll have dinner at the pub in Docklands – you know the one where we went that one time with you and Dad…?”

“…The Gun?”

Albus nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it’ll be only the cousins, James, Scor, and a couple of friends from work, but the rest will join us later.”

His mother smiled. “We should go there sometime. Just the two of us.”

Albus frowned at the table, not really wanting to look his mother in the eyes. “And what about Dad?” He asked quietly, fiddling with his fork.

His mother remained quiet.

Albus glanced at her. There were tense lines on her face he hadn’t seen before. He wondered if they were going to make it. He wondered, if they were going to get a divorce.

The situation with Albus’s father was… complicated. Simply put, Harry Potter had made a long career in the DMLE, spending several years as an Auror, then as the Head Auror, and then the past ten years as the Head of the Department. Everything had been okay – well, as much as it could be okay with a department head who was working overtime every single day instead of being home with his family – until one morning three months ago.

Some prick who had gotten out of Azkaban – where Albus’s father had put him into ten years back – had wanted revenge. He had sent letters to Albus’s father, threatening to harm his wife and children if he didn’t step down from his position and leave the Ministry.

At first Albus’s father had disregarded the threats. He had shared the uncomfortable news with his family, and with the Ministry. But they kept on coming – the occasional letters. And the occasional incidents that left them all feeling nauseated, like someone was watching all of them.

And someone had been watching. The man – Jacob Wilson – had broken into Albus’s place, but had not taken anything – he had left behind a bloody dead owl with a letter of threats in its beak. He had followed Lily during the summer when she had been doing her running routine in the park close to their parents’ house.

And then, one morning Jacob Wilson had appeared in his parents’ kitchen, where Albus’s mother had been making breakfast. He had simply pointed his wand at her, asking where Harry Potter was.

Albus’s father had stepped into the kitchen right that moment, and taken a curse on his chest. Jacob had killed himself in front of Albus’s mother.

Albus’s father had been taken to St Mungo’s, and had stayed there for nearly a month. It had been a week before he even regained consciousness. It had been the most horrible week in Albus’s life. He was sure his mother, brother and sister agreed.

The curse had been rare, and something the Healers had not encountered before. A new, self-made curse. Harry Potter had woken up after one of the Healers’ many experimental treatments worked. But he wasn’t the same man as he had been before the incident. Albus’s father quit his job and left the Ministry. Everyone understood he needed some peace and quiet. Everyone thought he would be back, though. Albus, however, was sure that was not going to happen. His father had changed. What happened to his family, had changed Albus’s father, permanently.

After he got home from the hospital, Albus’s father refused to see anyone but his children and wife. And even that was a stretch during the first month after he got home. Sometimes, Albus’s father had himself locked into his shed, working on his projects and trying to cope with the obvious Post-traumatic Stress Disorder while keeping everyone away.

It had got a bit easier after weeks went by. But he still spent a lot of his time alone. He was a shell of the man he used to be. And Albus didn’t know if there was anything he could do to help him. One night – weeks ago – Albus had asked his mother to never leave his father, telling her that he needed her, even though he didn’t show it.

Albus’s mother had been shocked and had made Albus feel embarrassed about himself for even thinking such things. And now, Albus knew his mother had been thinking of leaving his father, and she didn’t even have to say the words. Albus knew it from the look in her eyes.

“Where is he?” Albus asked mutedly.

“In the shed.” She said with a tired voice. She stood up, went to place her mug in the sink and grabbed the counter hard with her both hands.

Albus took in a calming breath and went to his mother, pulling her into a warm hug, letting her press her head against his chest. She felt so…fragile that it made his chest ache. “I love you, Mum.” He murmured into her hair.

She sniffed quietly, and then let out a quiet laugh, before pulling away and smirking at him. Her gaze told him not to go there, that she wanted to discuss something else. “You’re such a chivalrous man, Al. It’s a shame I’m the only woman you’ll sweep off their feet.”

Albus snorted. “Ever heard of casual sex?”

His mother shoved him hard and gagged. “Go, _please_ , and return when you’ve learnt some manners.” She said sternly, before her expression sobered. “Go see your father, Al. And enjoy tonight, love. You’ve earned it,” she said and rose onto her toes to kiss him on his cheek.

Albus nodded at her before turning around and making his way towards the backyard. Towards the shed.

He stopped behind the door his hand resting on the handle for a moment before pushing the door open.

“Albus.” His father said, looking both absentminded and pleasantly surprised. “Thought you weren’t gonna come until Saturday?” He asked, moving away from the wood lathe machine he had got some weeks ago.

Albus stepped into the shed. “It is Saturday.”

“Oh.” His father said, seeming somewhat shocked. “Er – happy birthday, son.”

Albus nodded and looked around him slowly. The wooden floor was filled by sawdust, pieces of wood and splinters. There were chairs somewhere in there, Albus was sure of it, but every surface was now covered with tools and odd looking bowls and goblets.

“You’ve been busy.”

His father cleared his throat, frowning at one of the piles of items before he began to move the things away, evidently in order to dig up one of the armchairs. Albus wondered when the last time was his father had looked in the mirror. At least he didn’t smell, so Albus reckoned he had been taking care of his personal hygiene. But was he eating? Sleeping? He looked thin and very tired.

“Dad?” Albus asked quietly, watching as his father scratched his messy beard after discovering a wooden object, and stared at it with a deep frown on his face.

“Hmm?” He asked, looking at Albus. “Shall we have tea?” He asked, as if they weren’t in the middle of a messy shed.

Albus sighed inwardly. “Yeah, fine.”

His father flicked his wrist, making two stacks of tools and wooden objects rise in the air, revealing two armchairs. He levitated the items to a work desk that was already filled to the brim.

“Sit,” His father said, nodding at the chairs.

As soon as Albus did, a cup appeared in the air, in front of him.

“Made it myself.” Albus’s father said with a hint of smugness in his voice, before sitting down in the other armchair, opposite to Albus.

“It’s – um.” It was wooden and ugly as hell. “Cheers.” Albus muttered, taking the cup into his hands. He took a small sip, and the tea tasted like a mix of dog piss and burnt wood. He tried to keep his face straight.

His father smiled at him easily. “Twenty! That’s – I remember when I was twenty… It was when –”

“When you married mum, right?” Albus asked, watching at his father carefully.

He frowned and looked away from Albus. “Yeah, that too. I was going to say when I finished my Auror training…” he muttered.

Albus grit his teeth, not able to stand it any longer. “What’s happened to you, Dad? Why are you like – like –” He waved his hand over his father’s direction.

“Like what?” His father asked darkly.

Albus swallowed down a sneer. “Like you don’t care about anything anymore! Not yourself, not Mum –”

“Al…” His father said warningly.

“No.” Albus said, shaking his head and stood up. “Pull your shit together, and be my father. Be a husband to my mother and stop –” he put the cup on the edge of the table near the door, “Stop with this rubbish!”

“ _Albus.”_ His father growled, but Albus had already gone through the door, slamming it closed behind him.

 _Fucking dad_ , Albus thought bitterly. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be like himself, like he had been four months ago?

As Albus took in a calming breath before disapparating, he realised with a sinking feeling that perhaps the problem was him, and everyone close to his father, for not giving him more time to heal, for not understanding what he was going through in his mind.

* * *

The music was pounding all around them, but that wasn’t why Scorpius hadn’t heard Albus. It wasn’t that he was focused on his date either, because she was nowhere in sight. As soon as they had arrived, she had told Scorpius that she was going to search her friends, and let Scorpius be with his.

A rather smooth way of telling him that it wasn’t going to work between them, and that there was no point on continuing their night together.

Albus didn’t mind the slightest. It had been only the second time he had seen her – Catherine – and he doubted that he would see her again. He also knew that she hadn’t really meant anything to Scorpius. No one really had, not after Albus’s cousin Rose.

They were sitting at the rows of sofas: Fred, Nick, Zach and his girlfriend Charlie were on the other end, laughing at something. Dominique, Roxanne and Lucy were sitting close to them, between a group of blokes – his cousins’ boyfriends and their friends, Albus assumed. Emma was somewhere in the club with Amanda, who wasn’t able to make it to dinner, but had come to the club straight from work. Chase, Nathan, Hugo, and James’s teammates Oliver and Chuck were closest to Albus and Scorpius. James was on the dancefloor with the rest of his friends. Albus reckoned that it was where Rose and her roommate Scarlett had disappeared as well.

“If you keep tuning me out, I might as well go find Rose and tell her how you’ve been staring at her half of the night,” Albus said before taking a long swig of his beer.

It had the desired effect.

Scorpius’s head whipped at his direction, his eyes cold. “What’re you talking about? I’m not staring at anyone.”

Albus nodded at his friend slowly, a knowing look on his features.

“Sod off,” Scorpius finally huffed, and stood up.

Albus smirked, and followed suit.

They went to the bar, had a couple of drinks, talked a bunch of rubbish – about Albus’s father, mostly, as Scorpius was the only person to who Albus allowed himself to complain about his family. Scorpius listened closely, nodding in all the right parts and asking all the right questions.

There was a reason they were best mates. Scorpius always had Albus’s back, and always knew what Albus was thinking, even before Albus himself knew how to form those thoughts and put them into words.

“Perhaps he should talk to someone – someone outside your family,” Scorpius said, his back against the bar, his eyes at the bottle between his hands.

Albus sighed, trailing a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, he should. Just… I dunno if he’ll do it.”

“Let’s do shots.” Scorpius said suddenly.

Albus lifted his brows at his friend, his mouth curving into a smile. “What is this devilry? Scorpius Malfoy asking to do _shots_?” Albus asked with a sly grin, getting a sneer in reply.

Scorpius sniffed and turned around to gesture at the bartender, before turning to look at Albus. “It’s your birthday. I’ve been dumped. Your father has a mental breakdown. I reckon I can be a bit out of character tonight.”

Albus laughed quietly, as Scorpius ordered them a round of Tequila. They choked down the liquors, grimacing at each other, before ordering another round.

“Disgusting.” Scorpius groaned, pushing the empty glass towards the other end of the counter. “I quite think my wish to act like your brother has been now fulfilled.”

Albus sniggered. “Oh, that was nothing in James’s books – but, yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, and looked around.

Rose was there, close to them. She too was leaning against the bar, her eyes narrowing at the dance floor. Albus watched as strobe lights hit her face, lighting it with different colours. She was alone. Albus glanced at Scorpius, who seemed to be unaware of her near presence. “Come on,” He muttered to his friend and grabbed his beer, before making his way towards Rose.

Rose was surprised to see them, but gave them only a little attention. She was watching James, who was in the middle of the dancefloor with Rose’s roommate, holding her close and every now and then leaning down to kiss her.

“Shit,” Albus cursed, knowing fully well it was going to be in the papers the next day. James’s so-called friends, who happened to be only a few feet away, always sold his dirty laundry to the media. Albus had told his brother to get rid of them, and that they were making his life difficult, but James didn’t care.

“Fuck…” Albus groaned as he saw that James and Scarlett were now snogging rather enthusiastically, not caring a bit that several people were looking at them.

He pushed his beer to Scorpius’s hands and quickly made his way towards the dancefloor.

“James.” Albus said harshly, pulling his brother back a bit. “You’re making a scene.”

James snorted, still holding onto Scarlett. “No, brother. _You_ are making a scene.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s go talk for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?” James asked, looking over Albus’s shoulder. Albus too turned to look, and saw James’s teammates coming from the bar, walking back to where they were sitting originally. “Bugger off, Al. I’m in the middle of something here.”

Albus seethed inwardly, and then shoved James a bit. “Think what you’re doing – and don’t be an idiot! We’re all gonna be reading about this tomorrow. Is that what you really want?”

Scarlett scoffed, giving Albus a narrow-eyed look. “It’s nothing serious, just – lay off a bit.”

James nodded at Scarlett and then looked at Albus. “What she said.”

Albus shook his head and gave Scarlett a serious look. “He won’t be calling you tomorrow, I hope you’re aware of that,” He said, his voice a bit harsher than he intended.

Scarlett looked taken aback.

“What the fuck is your problem, Al?” James asked, facing Albus fully, looking furious.

Albus lifted his hands up in exasperation. “What do you _think_ , James?!” Albus yelled. “I’m fucking sick of cleaning up every fucking mess you leave behind!”

Scarlett let out a shocked sound. “I’m leaving,” She said coldly, turning her back on them, before marching towards the area they were sitting in earlier.

James gave Albus a mean grin. “You happy now?” James asked, his brows high on his forehead. “Are you just jealous because you’re alone?”

“Fuck you, James.” Albus said and turned around.

He didn’t need this shit. James was an adult, and he was capable of solving his own problems. Or, he could start learning now.

Until now, it had been Albus, who had kept an eye on his brother trying to make sure that all his drunken escapades were left unnoticed by the press. Naturally someone always had seen something, but if the rags knew how many times James had messed up, they would burst in joy.

During the past year and a half, Albus had lied for his brother, had paid debts James had left hanging around, had soothed some outraged girls – and their murderous boyfriends. He had twice Confunded the Muggle Police – something Albus was sure had been illegal, but necessary, as James had been high on drugs and most likely would have faced charges.

It wasn’t like James had a problem with alcohol or drugs – he had been merely experimenting, but in all the wrong places, and with all the wrong people. He let people persuade him into the most moronic things, which was annoying as hell. James always let everyone take him on, to push and pull him around, and he never said a bloody thing against anyone. He craved to be popular, to be a person everyone fancied and looked up to, and because of that he rarely refused anything that was proposed to him.

If he had been a nobody – just a Muggle, or even a regular wizard – it wouldn’t have been a problem. But the thing was, James wasn’t just anyone. He was a famous professional player in the British-Irish League, and the Chaser for the English National team, which meant that his career was at stake, even if most of his stupidity materialised during off-season.

James grabbed Albus by his arm just as he reached the edge of the dancefloor. “Wait. Fucking. Wait.”

Albus whirled around, rounding on his brother. “What?!”

James groaned, rubbing his face. “I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing, brother.”

Albus shook his head. “You know she’s Rose’s roommate, and not just a random witch? You know that, right?”

James clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”

“What’s going on?” Oliver – James’s teammate – asked, appearing to Albus’s side.

James glared at him, which made Albus blink in surprise. He knew Oliver and James had been good friends for a while, but at that moment it definitely looked like something else to Albus.

“Not your fucking business, Wright.”

Albus’s eyes moved between the two men. He wondered what had happened, knowing it couldn’t have been that long ago, as Albus remembered everything had been all right the last time they had been out together.

Oliver huffed. “Dunno what’s got your bloody knickers in a twist, Potter, but you’re making an arse out of yourself!”

James growled, and then to Albus’s utter surprise, he shoved Oliver hard on his chest, making the other man stumble backwards. He didn’t fall, but he was fuming.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” James barked at his teammate, breathing heavily.

Albus grimaced _. Everyone_ was staring at them. Bloody hell.

“Maybe you should go,” Albus said to Oliver, making a point to glance around them.

Oliver shook his head slowly, giving James a deeply disappointed look. “Yeah. Maybe I should.” he said icily.

He looked at James for a second and then spoke. “Call me when you’ve pulled that massive head of yours out of your arse.”

Oliver turned around and left the club, followed by Chuck, who threw a scowl at James’s direction.

Albus grimaced, thinking that James would be having a rather uncomfortable practice next Monday, if he didn’t fix things between him and his teammates before that. He looked at his brother, who was seething with anger and breathing heavily.

“Come on,” Albus muttered to his brother, and pulled him away from the ogling people around them.

They stepped outside to the patio some moments after Oliver and Chuck, but luckily there was no trace of them. Instead, there were a couple of groups smoking cigarettes. Albus pulled James to sit down on one of the empty benches.

There was a long silence.

“Can’t you put it into you thick head that whatever you do, there will be consequences?” Albus asked from him, feeling both exasperated and tired.

James huffed and went to bum a cigarette from a group of girls sitting close to them. He came back to sit beside Albus, inhaling and exhaling smoke while staring ahead.

“Yeah, I know.”

Albus looked at his brother. “What do you want?”

James seemed surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want from your life?” Albus asked, shrugging, and took the fag James was offering to him. He inhaled and coughed. “Disgusting.”

James snorted and took it back, his eyes looking ahead, his mind somewhere else. “I dunno. Quidditch is the only thing I know.”

Albus sighed. “You don’t have to be something you don’t want to be, James…” He muttered, and cringed. He knew he wasn’t drunk enough for that sort of conversation with his brother.

“Can we just get drunk and forget the night?” James asked after flipping the butt away from him.

Albus nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He then looked at his brother, knowing that it needed to be addressed, but also knowing, that he didn’t want to say it.

“I’ll behave, I promise.” James said sullenly, and then pushed himself up from the bench. “Come on, Al.”

They went inside and to the bar, and did several shots, until Albus felt like he was going to be sick.

He didn’t, and they returned back to the group of sofas, where some of their group sat still. Scorpius, Dominique, Roxanne, Lucy and their friends had already left, as had some of James’s other friends. There were only Rose, Scarlett, Fred, Nick, Hugo, Chase, and Nathan left from their group, sitting on the sofas.

Albus made sure he and James sat further away from Rose and Scarlett, downing their drinks in silence. Albus saw the girls take their leave after a while, knowing that James – and possibly Albus too – was going to hear from Rose the next day – if anything could be interpreted from his cousin’s murderous glare.

After a while, both Chase and Nathan left, patting Albus on the shoulder and telling him to be sharp at the office the following Monday. Then Nick disappeared to the loo, and didn’t come back. Fred had left to the bar thirty minutes before, and when Albus saw a glimpse of him, he was leaning against the counter, chatting up some girl.

“’m fucking drunk.” James groaned, bending his head down to his knees.

Hugo leaned back on the sofa, his eyes closed. “Same.”

The club was swirling in front of Albus. The multicoloured lights were making his eyes sting. Perhaps it was time to leave.

“Anyone good to apparate?”

Tired, slurred laughter followed.

“Who lives the nearest?” Albus grunted, pressing his eyes closed against the swirling lights, against the nauseating bass that kept thumping in his stomach.

“’m not gonna take you knobbers home. I live with my mum. She’d piss her pants.” Hugo slurred.

James and Albus both sniggered sluggishly. “’d pay to see that.” Albus mumbled.

“Fucker.” Hugo grunted. “I’d deck you if I could stand.”

They gathered their strengths and managed to wobble out of the club. They decided to crash at James’s house, since it was closest to the club, near Victoria park. Even with the fifteen-minute drive the cab ride was slow, as they had to stop at least four times – whenever one of them got sick.

The driver had been livid, and had stepped on the gas as soon as Albus, Hugo and James had staggered out of the car.

“Y’know…I might be jealous.” Albus muttered, tired as he slumped onto the sofa, next to James. Hugo was sprawled in an armchair next to them.

“ – why are you speaking?” Hugo groaned slowly, and then started to snore loudly.

“’bout what?” James grunted, his head leaning against the backrest, his eyes closed.

Albus sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder, feeling how the world was dimming around him. “…Your life’s straightforward...”

James let out a sluggish, amused sound next to him, and then Albus drifted into sleep.


	4. Ginny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)

**Chapter 4: Ginny**

**Friday, 14 November, 2025**

Ginny leaned against the kitchen counter and swallowed down the lump of anger in her throat, blinking away the tears of frustration and hurt. She didn’t allow herself to cry – not for this. No. She needed to look ahead, to _understand_. She needed to be better, and not lose her temper even though her husband was the most maddening prat that had ever walked the earth.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to calm down. It didn’t do any good to start hexing things in the kitchen. She would be the one to repair them afterwards. Not him. Not Harry.

Because Harry Potter was spending his every waking moment in his bloody stupid shed, supposedly aiming to whittle every family member a new set of dishes by Christmas. And right now, Ginny hated it. She hated him a bit too. She wanted to burn the bloody shed to the ground.

She knew that things were better than they had been before Harry had come up with his little hobby. She remembered the nights after the hospital, in early September – when Harry had woken up screaming and thrashing in his bed. She remembered the night when he had woken up and hexed every inch of their room, destroying everything. Ginny had been lucky to escape into the bathroom without a scratch. She had also been grateful that Lily had already returned to school by then. When Harry had realised what he had done, he had been terrified. He hadn’t slept next to her anymore. He had started to avoid Ginny’s company. He had started to spend his days in the shed, and his nights on the sitting room couch. He rarely spent time with her in the same room.

Ginny took in a calming breath. She needed to talk to someone – someone adult, someone not…not in a middle of a crisis, someone who didn’t only care about their precious woodwork. She rolled her eyes, thinking back to their screaming match only moments ago.

_“You forgot his birthday?!” Ginny yelled at him, feeling her magic crackling around her._

_She stood on the doorway of the shed, not taking a step closer, because Merlin knew if she did, she would – she would strangle him. “You forgot your son’s_ twentieth _birthday?!” She shrieked, her knuckles going white against the doorframe._

_Harry looked sheepish for a moment, but then his gaze hardened. “Is that all?” He asked, his voice low._

_Ginny let out an outraged scoff. “All?! ALL?!” She yelled, shaking her head in disbelief._

_“I talked to him – I wished him happy birthday! What more would you have me do?!” Harry yelled, pushing his hands through his unkept hair._

_Ginny shook her head slowly, unable to believe what she was hearing. “And what about your other son?” She asked, a dry laughter erupting from her mouth. “Do you even_ know _what he’s done this time?!”_

_James had once again shown his indifference to who he was, and was under some sort of delusion that his actions had no effect to him or anyone close to him. Last weekend, James’s face had once again been on the front page of every wizarding magazine that existed, and what Ginny had read, definitely hadn’t made her feel proud of her son. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was hell. All the family members were hunted by all sorts of people – from newspapers and magazines – who were trying to dig up details about James for their piece. It usually run its course, until something more interesting came up._

_“What would you have me do about it now? It was days ago!” Harry yelled, exasperated. “James is an adult, Ginny – it’s time for him to take responsibility!”_

_Ginny knew Harry had a point. But she also knew that James needed his father to be there for him, to help him. Her son had been pulled into the Quidditch league straight from school, and she of all people knew what it was like. She couldn’t have done it – her career with the Harpies – without her family’s support, without Harry. And now, she alone wasn’t enough for James. He needed both his parents. She huffed. “You can be present!” She hissed through her teeth. “Be in our lives! Do something –_ anything – _but your –” She waved an exasperated hand to a wooden object. “ – but this!”_

_Harry’s jaw clenched. “You want me to stop this?” He asked, mutedly. His eyes were flashing with anger. “To go back a few months?” He asked, swallowing hard. “You want me to stop the only thing that makes me forget what happened – to forget that lunatic who killed himself in front of my wife? To forget how my insides were torn apart, and I felt as if my soul was ripped from my body the moment I knew you were facing him alone?!” Harry yelled. “You want me to accidentally blow up the house and you with it?!”_

_Ginny let out a shriek of anger. “NO!” She yelled. “NO! I want you to move on – to – to get help!”_

_Harry was already shaking his head furiously. “No. You want me to admit myself to Janus Thickey ward so that I can get ‘help’ –” He said,_ _drawing quotation marks in the air, while seething, “But if you really want to get rid of me, just – leave.” He growled, turning away, panting._

_Ginny stilled. “W-What?” She breathed, feeling coldness in her spine._

_Harry took in a deep breath, before turning towards her. “Leave me. I don’t know why you try. If this is so – so – unbearable, then – then you can always leave. I can’t escape this.” He said quietly, and Ginny felt a bucket of ice thrown into the bottom of her stomach._

_No… Ginny knew what he was on about. This was Harry being a scapegoat. Harry giving her a way out. Harry pushing her away. Harry seeing if she would leave._

_It wasn’t the first time it had been brought up by one of them._

_“Neither can I.” Ginny said, feeling exhausted._

_Harry stared at her for a long moment, something close to despair in his eyes. “Why?”_

_Her heart ached. She knew he wanted her to say it, she knew why he was asking. She knew he wanted reassurance, that she would not leave him. That she would never leave him. And she wouldn’t. She had promised him, promised_ herself _that she wouldn’t. For better and for worse._

_“Because I love you.”_

_Harry swallowed convulsively, looking away from her. He nodded a couple of times, but remained silent._

_Ginny let out a weary sigh. “I’ll talk to you later.” She said quietly, turned around, and walked back to the house._

_He didn’t say another word, and let her go._

She worked mechanically, summoning her purse with a flick of her wand. She looked down making sure she was wearing clean clothes before disapparating with a crack.

Ginny apparated behind Hermione’s front door, and even though she knew her friend didn’t appreciate her guests getting in by magic, and instead preferred everyone using the doorbell, Ginny tapped her wand on the door, unlocking it.

She stilled in the dimly lit hallway, as distant music carried over from the sitting room.

“Hermione?” She called, but didn’t hear a reply.

Ginny took off her shoes and walked towards the noise. When she stepped into the sitting room, she realised that the pair of men’s shoes in the hallway, next to Hermione’s ballet flats had been the first clue – something she had seen but disregarded. The second clue had been her friend not responding to Ginny’s calls. Which was obviously because her mouth was otherwise occupied.

“Oh, my God!” Ginny gasped, staring at the pair on the sofa, curled against each other, in mid snog.

Hermione and – and a man – and Ginny had even seen him before, he was “– Bruce!”

It would have been amusing – the way the pair disentangled so abruptly, as if something had burned them both – if not the terrified look on Hermione’s eyes.

Eyes, that were trained on Ginny’s outstretched wand. Which she quickly shoved behind her, and pushed into her purse.

“Ginny!” Hermione said with a high-pitched tone, her cheeks red and her eyes moving nervously between the man and Ginny. “W-What are you – we didn’t make plans to – are you okay?” She asked, her expression changing from shocked bewilderment into concern.

Bruce cleared his throat and stood up from the sofa, rubbing his palms against his thighs, looking rather uncomfortable, but evidently missing Ginny’s unintended wand demonstration.

Ginny grimaced. “I can come back later, Mione. It’s – it’s nothing. I’m sorry,” she said hastily, but Hermione shook her head fervently.

“No, no,” She said hastily, and gave Bruce a quick glance.

Bruce smiled tightly. “I was just leaving, actually.” He said with a polite smile.

Ginny nodded slowly. “Oh. Well. Um. Good to see you again. Bruce.”

Bruce let out an awkward chuckle. “Likewise, Ginevra.”

Hermione looked pained. Bruce leaned down to kiss Hermione on her cheek, which made her whole neck flush with embarrassment.

Ginny was starting to almost enjoy the situation.

“I’ll – call you tomorrow.” Bruce said, and Ginny detected a question in his tone.

Hermione gave him a small nod and smiled. “I’ll walk you out.”

Bruce tipped his chin at Ginny as he passed by her, on his way to the hallway. Hermione followed him, narrowing her eyes at the smirk on Ginny’s lips.

Five minutes later, Ginny had made herself at home, and was in Hermione’s kitchen, brewing tea – the muggle way, like Hermione had taught her and insisted it was to be done, because ‘ _who knows if they will work without magic afterwards’,_ referring to her kitchen appliances.

Hermione slipped into the kitchen, leaning against the wall next to the door. “I can’t _believe_ that just happened,” she said wearily, closing her eyes.

Ginny snorted. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” she said teasingly. “Is it wrong if I kind of want to see my brother’s face when he finds out?”

Hermione stared at her. “You’re _not_ going to tell him!” She gasped. “Bruce is not – he’s – we are –”

“Just friends?” Ginny asked, her lips curving.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. “Stop it. And yes, we are – we were. Oh, Gods, this is – this is a mess.”

Ginny took the kettle from the stove and poured the water into two cups. “And how is it a mess? I thought Bruce was a decent bloke?”

Ginny had met the man a couple of times before, when she had joined Hermione and her colleagues for afterwork drinks. Even though Ginny had felt a bit like an outsider in their company, she had wanted to meet and get to know the people Hermione considered as her friends in the muggle world.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s hardly a _bloke,_ Gin. He’s fifty.”

Ginny shrugged, carrying their cups to the kitchen island in the middle of the room. “So?”

“So…?” Hermione repeated, incredulously.

Ginny arched an amused brow at her friend. “You haven’t told anyone about him?”

Hermione huffed. “How could I have? This – what you just saw – was the first time!”

Ginny’s face fell. “Oh. Bugger. Shit.” She felt a bit bad then, for interrupting their first intimate moment.

Hermione pursed her lips because of her language.

Ginny studied her for a moment, a smile slowly curving her lips. “How was it?”

They looked at each other, and the next second, they both burst in laughter. It was like they were fifteen again, talking about the boys in Hogwarts. As their laughter dried away, Hermione shook her head, and took a seat at the island.

“I don’t know, Gin. Good?” She said, looking like she thought about it a bit, and then nodded. “It was good. It was… something I didn’t remember I wanted.”

Ginny sat down next to her and smiled. Ginny loved her brother, but after all Hermione had endured after their divorce – dealing with Ron’s irksome attitude, his resentment and his childish act, as well as watching how he had moved on into a new relationship so quickly, with possibly the only person who could make Hermione feel bothered by it – she was very happy and excited for her friend.

Hermione cleared her throat, and took a sip of her tea. “I mean, Bruce and I have been friends for a long time, and it could be nothing, it could not work in the end – but… I want to see if it could,” Hermione said with a determined look, her cheeks tinging with red.

Ginny grinned. “Look at you, all blushing and fancying a man…” Ginny said, sniggering at Hermione’s flustered expression.

Her friend’s gaze became severe. “You’re not telling a soul until I figure it out and tell my kids.”

Ginny snorted. “Well… perhaps you should consider taking your snogging sessions to somewhere else until that,” she said and ignored Hermione’s narrowed gaze. “Hugo _does_ live here, doesn’t he?”

Hermione nodded, and then sighed. “At least, I think he does. I haven’t really seen him after Sunday. I rarely see him these days.”

Ginny sipped her tea, taking note of the tone of concern in Hermione’s voice. “Oh?”

Hermione gave her a helpless shrug. “He leaves early in the morning, and comes back late at night,” She said, worrying her lip. “I’ve tried to stay awake some nights, to at least see that he’s doing all right, but each time he has end up spending the whole night at the hospital, claiming to sleep there before his morning shift.”

Ginny grimaced inwardly. It sounded very much like what Harry had been doing some years ago, when he had been working all the time, barely having time to visit home. “Is he working this weekend?” She asked, wondering if she should have a talk with Albus, to see if her son could have a chat with Hugo, to see that the boy wasn’t wearing himself down.

“I think so… I hope so.” Hermione said resignedly. “I am a bit worried for him. I know that he is passionate about his studies and becoming a Healer, but I just – I would like to make sure that he is taking care of himself…”

Ginny nodded. “I understand. I’ll talk to Albus – he can talk to Hugo.”

Hermione gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Gin.” Her smile soon vanished, her eyes studying Ginny. “Has something happened? With Harry?”

Ginny groaned softly, both pleased and frustrated that her friend knew her so well. “Yes. We had an argument,” she muttered, tracing the rim of her cup absently.

“He’s not going to talk to a Mind Healer?” Hermione asked carefully.

Ginny shook her head, feeling exhaustion and sadness mingling in her chest, making her quiet.

Hermione let out a deep sigh. “Oh, Harry…” She whispered, more to herself than to Ginny. “Should I talk to him?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny said after thinking it over. She wasn’t sure if it would help, as Hermione had already tried talking to him. “I just need him to get over it, to acknowledge it and let it go... I need him to stop being so – so – withdrawn. I need him to let me in. So that we can move on with our lives, instead of what we have now.” She said, her eyes at the table, her throat tight.

Hermione hummed gently. “I understand. I also understand – and I believe you do too – that he cannot do that, not without help. Whether it is from a professional or someone close to him...” She said, her voice soft.

Ginny took in a shuddering breath, giving her friend a mirthless smile. “Perhaps you could try to talk to him again, Mione. Ask him to get help – he has always listened to you.”

Hermione chuckled quietly. “I think you might be stretching it a bit. We both know how stubborn Harry Potter can be, and how he rarely does what others tell him to do.” Hermione said with an eyeroll echoing in her voice. She gave Ginny a meaningful look. “He needs to want to do it himself. But yes, I will talk to him.”

Ginny’s smile was strained, and they fell into a silence, drinking their teas.

“You should come to Pilates with me!” Hermione said suddenly, giving Ginny an excited look. “It’ll be good for you – and you would be doing something just for you,” she said pointedly.

Ginny arched a brow. “Why does it sound like I’d be doing something for you though?” she said wryly, but when Hermione pursed her lips and nudged her arm with her elbow, Ginny lift her hands in surrender. “Fine! If you promise it’s not hard or painful.”

Hermione laughed. “It’s neither of those things, I promise.”

They chatted for a long while, switching from tea to wine per Ginny’s request after she started to complain about James and his latest exploit.

“…I’ve tried to talk to him – many times now – but he doesn’t _get_ it!” Ginny said in exasperation. “Every time there’s a scandal, he goes straight to this _apologising mode,_ and it’s impossible to scold him after that. And it’s not like any of those times has been the end of the world – I mean, it happens to other people, it has happened to other players as well! I’m just… I’m worried that next time it might be worse, and then he’ll miss out the opportunity of a lifetime, because he can’t keep himself in check the few nights he goes out!” Ginny ranted, pausing to drain half of the Merlot in her glass. “I mean, what _can_ I do?”

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek, and then let out a weary sigh. “Honestly? I haven’t the faintest. I mean, look at me: living with my own son, and I’m still worried for him, because I don’t really know what is going on in his life. Is he happy? Is he exhausted? Is he dating? Well, probably not, since he seems to be rather engaged with his studies,” Hermione said wearily.

Ginny nodded, pouring more wine to their empty glasses. “Since when did our children start to live their own lives? You know what Albus told me last week?” Ginny said, lifting her brows. “That he doesn’t _believe_ in relationships or marriage!” Ginny said, giving her friend an incredulous look. “How can any twenty-year-old say that with a straight face?”

Hermione sighed. “They feel everything so…intensely.”

“We weren’t like that, were we?” Ginny asked with a frown, before taking a hefty gulp.

Hermione huffed. “Of course not. We had a war to fight, and a broken wizarding world to fix. We didn’t have _time_ to form opinions about – about _marriages._ ” Hermione said primly, and then groaned. “Merlin, I sound so old.”

They laughed.

“I wonder if our parents ever had these kind of discussions…” Ginny said thoughtfully.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure they did.”

Ginny let out a long sigh. “I’m never getting grandkids, am I?”

Hermione tipped her glass to her. “You might not be the only one,” Hermione said wryly. She suddenly smirked and continued, “At least, you still have Lily? Hasn’t she been dating that Asher –”

“Don’t even start.”


	5. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this...two chapters in a day? Yeah, it is - so enjoy while it lasts! ;)

**Chapter 5: Rose**

**Sunday, 16 November, 2025**

"Hey mum," Rose called as she stepped into the small entrance hall. She had decided to forgo ringing the doorbell and had simply used a spell to open the door. "Is Hugo around?"

She could hear quiet voices and shuffling sounds coming from the kitchen. Rose knew she was a couple of hours early, as it was only nine thirty and lunch wasn't due until noon.

"Mum…?" Rose asked after kicking away her trainers and walking across the hall to the doorway that opened to the kitchen. "Is – oh."

There was a man in there, sitting with her mother at the large island in the middle of the kitchen, drinking tea. They were having breakfast.

They were both dressed for the day, but at the same time, they both looked like they had only gotten out of bed. Rose swallowed a shocked gasp, and raised her brows at her mother.

"Mum. Am I – um – interrupting something?" She asked, knowing how bewildered she sounded.

The man looked to be around her mother's age. His hair was short and dark brown, his eyes were light and kind looking behind his large and old-fashioned glasses, and there was something in his expression – like perseverance and confidence – that made Rose think of her mother.

Her mother, who was blushing for the first time in a long while in front of Rose, cleared her throat as she stood up. "Rose! No, of course not! This is Bruce." She said, voice trembling a bit. "…A friend _from_ _work_." She said the last words with a certain sharpness, which confirmed to Rose what she had been thinking: he was a muggle.

_A friend indeed_ , Rose thought wryly, but accepted Bruce's hand when the man stood up and took a step towards her.

"Lovely to meet you, Rose," Bruce said with a low, steady voice. "Your mother has spoken a lot about you."

Rose smiled politely. "I hope only the good things," she said and sent a sharp look at her mother, who was busy stifling a smile.

Bruce nodded seriously. "Certainly."

They all stood in the kitchen for a short uncomfortable moment, until Rose's mother asked her to sit down with them. Rose doubted her mother had meant for her to meet Bruce like this, and was rather certain her mother had wanted him to leave before Rose would arrive.

Which meant that Hugo wasn't home.

They chatted for a while, and Rose thought that Bruce was polite and funny, but a lot more serious than Rose's own father. It was rather obvious why her mother and Bruce were friends. Or more than friends, Rose thought slyly. They were very much alike: they were both Professors in the same University and shared many same interests and personality traits.

An hour or so later Bruce was taking his leave, wishing them both a great day and telling Rose he was glad to have been able to meet her, and that he hoped they would see each other soon.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rose narrowed her eyes at her mother's back. She was keeping herself busy with the dishes, on the other side of the breakfast island, evidently avoiding Rose's gaze.

"Mum."

Her mother's back stiffened slightly. She turned to face Rose, looking sheepish and apologising. "Look, Rose. I didn't intend for him to still be here when you arrived."

"I figured." Rose said sardonically.

Her mother sighed. "It's nothing, Bruce is just a friend." She insisted, rolling her eyes at Rose's knowing look.

"Yeah? A friend who spent the night with you?"

Her mother groaned quietly in exasperation. "We were simply having dinner last night, and there was wine, and it was late, Bruce had his car here, so he slept on the sofa downstairs," she said with a no-nonsense manner. "Nothing more than that, Rose."

"Oh yeah? You slept with him on that couch?"

"Rose." Her mother said with a shocked look.

Rose smirked at her. "You fancy him?"

" _Rose_." There was a warning in her mother's voice.

"What?" Rose asked, innocently. "He seems like a nice bloke. Nothing wrong with fancying him, I suppose."

She was rather certain her mother _did_ in fact fancy the Bruce bloke. Rose thought it was about time her mother had someone to keep her company and give her affection and love after being so many years by herself and putting her work and children before herself. She hoped Bruce was good enough for her mother.

Her mother sighed wearily, turning back to the dishes. "Have you eaten?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

Rose watched her, always intrigued to see how her mother decided to do even the most dullest chores without magic. She knew her mother was an excellent witch, but she rarely saw her using her wand. Rose wondered, if the last time she had seen her cast a spell, was before Rose had gone to Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger had lived in the Muggle world without magic for several years. After Rose's mother had graduated from Hogwarts, she and Rose's father had built themselves a house and settled into a quiet life with their two small children. It hadn't been enough for her; she had once told Rose as much. Hermione had gone to a University some years before Rose had started at Hogwarts. After years of studying, she had finally become a Professor, and got the career she had been aiming for. It was probably one of the reasons Rose's parents had divorced: they were very different. Her mother wanted a Muggle life, Muggle friends, and not to use magic to resolve all her problems, and Rose's father couldn't understand that, having grown up with magic.

Rose still remembered the day clearly – the first day of the summer holiday after her second year in Hogwarts. Her parents had sat her and Hugo down in their sitting room, and told them that they were going to divorce each other. Their father would be staying in their home, and their mother already had her own place. They told Rose and Hugo that they were able to decide whether they wanted to live with their mother or their father whenever they were off from Hogwarts, and hoped that they could divide the holidays evenly.

At first, Rose's parents had barely been in speaking terms, and every time she had stayed with one of them, the other one had been upset by it. It had been horrible, the first year after their divorce. It hadn't really helped matters that their father had had a new girlfriend, which had made Rose hate him a bit. So, Rose and Hugo had decided to spend the Christmas and Easter holidays at Hogwarts during her third year. And the next time they saw their parents, nearly a year later during the summer after Rose's third year, they had become civil towards each other – and had even made a plan for both of them to see Rose and Hugo. Lavender had still been in the picture a year later, and as years went by, it became easier.

"Rose?"

Rose blinked. "Uh. Yeah, I had a bite at home," Rose muttered, looking around in the familiar and cosy room: everything was light wood and white, and spotless like it had always been. There was a large island in the middle of the kitchen, which was used for breakfast – the lighting was simply beautiful, as the morning sun shone through the large windows on the two walls, creating a soft hue to the room. The French doors on one wall opened to a lovely, natural garden, hidden from others by a stone fence. Even though everyone preferred the kitchen, Rose's mother still insisted that the dining room of the house was used for other meals.

"How are you, darling?" Her mother asked after finishing the dishes. She sat down next to Rose. "I missed you last Sunday. How was Albus's party?"

Rose usually saw her mother and father on Sundays, but she hadn't made it to her mother's place for lunch the previous Sunday, as it had been the day after Albus's party. Rose had been busy throwing a fit at James while her cousin had moaned in pain on his sofa and struggled not to get sick on his sitting room floor. Yes, Rose had been a bit hungover herself, but it had been nothing compared to James.

Even though Scarlett had told Rose that she didn't care about James, and had merely shrugged off his prattish behaviour the previous night, Rose had still marched straight into James's house after breakfast and found him passed out on his sofa, still wearing the clothes from last night. She had sent a text to her mother that she was unable to come and that she would be there the next weekend, before waking her cousin up by conjuring a loud air horn, and blowing it out right next to his ear. She had managed to wake up her brother and Albus as well, who had been sleeping in James's guestroom.

"I'm okay. It was…fun. Until James made an arse of himself, I suppose," Rose said with a shrug.

Her mother's lips thinned. "Yes, I, well, Hugo filled me in when he came home," She said with a cringe. "Oh, I do hope it doesn't affect his career…" She added, looking worried.

Rose huffed. "Please. It only helps his career, it seems…"

They chatted for a while about Rose's life – which was as uneventful as usual – before Rose inquired about Hugo.

"…You know, he looks thinner. Is he eating? Is he sleeping?" Rose asked, frowning at her mother. "He'll burn himself out if he keeps spending every hour of every day in that hospital."

Hugo was working in St Mungo's, for the fifth night of the week. Rose knew that working there supported his training, and probably sped it up quite a bit, but the truth was that he was doing too much. He was attending his Healer training from Monday to Friday, from morning until late afternoon, and sometimes, he didn't even come home for a couple of days, and instead informed their mother that he would be taking a nap at the hospital before doing a night shift, assisting in one of the wards.

Rose's mother sighed wearily. "I've tried talking to him, Rose. He just – he doesn't listen," She said, looking a bit helpless.

Rose frowned at the table, knowing that Hugo was stubborn like their father – and as stubborn as Rose was. Hugo was nothing like Scarlett, who too was training in St Mungo's, but actually wanting and managing to have a life on the side. She wondered, if Hugo would listen to his sister, or merely shut her out like she feared he would.

They talked for a while, and Rose's mother told her a bit more about Bruce: he was in his fifties, a Professor of Physics in the Imperial College London, and they had been friends for a long time. He didn't have any children, but had two cats – which Rose tried not to roll her eyes at. He worked in a different department than Rose's mother – in the Department of Physics – whereas Rose's mother was a Professor in the Department of Infectious Diseases. Apparently, they had met at one of the events crossing over the departments a couple of years ago and had kept in touch afterwards.

Rose's mother also told her about seeing Ginny, and getting her to agree to do Pilates with her. Rose stifled a laugh. She would actually pay to see her aunt – who had too much energy, and a very short fuse – in a Pilates class, cursing and huffing and gritting her teeth while trying to focus into her breathing.

They prepared lunch together, and Rose recounted the events from past few weeks, excluding her horrible dates. After lunch, Rose prepared to leave towards her father's place, where she would be staying for dinner. Her mother kissed Rose on the cheek, and told her to send her love to Ron, Lavender and Jasmine. Rose was still astounded how well her mother had adjusted into the situation, after many turbulent years.

Rose stepped into the garden and disapparated after making sure to hide herself from the neighbours. Even though her mother didn't use magic, there was no chance she was going to leave her house unwarded – which meant that apparition to and from inside the house was impossible. Hermione Granger knew plenty of witches and wizards who knew no boundaries – mainly her family – and had insisted that knocking on her front door was the only way into her house. And yet, her own daughter still preferred an unlocking spell instead.

"Hey, dad!" Rose called as soon as she apparated into her father's hallway.

A loud shriek erupted from somewhere in the sitting room. " _Rosie_!"

Quick, tapping footsteps echoed in the house, and then her half-sister Jasmine appeared from the sitting room. "Hug!" She yelled, a wide grin stretching her chubby cheeks, "Hug!"

Rose laughed and kneeled, bracing herself for the attack, as Jasmine threw herself into Rose's arms.

"Oof!" Rose huffed, laughing. "You're getting more heavier every time," she murmured, and then pulled back to give a proper look at the three-year-old. "And taller too. Have you grown since I last saw you?"

Of course she hadn't, as it had been only two weeks. But she knew Jasmine loved it every time she brought it up.

"I'm a big girl!" She said, pushing away and putting her tiny hands against her hips, strutting her lip out.

Rose suppressed a snigger. "C'mere, you nugget," She said and scooped her sister up, carrying her like a football under her arm, while the girl squealed in laughter.

"Rose, honey. It's good to see you," Lavender said as Rose stepped into the sitting room, and let go of Jasmine. They hugged lightly.

The toddler went immediately down the hall, yelling at Rose's father to come and see who had arrived.

Lavender chuckled at her child's bossy voice, before turning to Rose. "How are you?" She asked, smiling kindly.

It had been a shock, when Rose's father had first told Rose and Hugo that he had a new girlfriend, almost right after divorcing their mother, and even more so, when they had announced the pregnancy a year and a half later. Rose had been angry at her father, had felt bitter at him for leaving them and getting himself a new family. It had taken a long time for Rose to come to terms with her father's decisions and his new spouse, and even her half-sister.

But now, they were okay, on her part, at least. Rose thought that if her mother had accepted it, then she herself had to as well. And her father hadn't disappeared from Rose's life – it had almost been the opposite. They loved to have her there – and Hugo too, whenever he had the time – and wanted Rose and Hugo to be part of their and Jasmine's life, as much as possible.

Rose shrugged. "I'm okay. Nothing new in my life."

Lavender's eyes studied her for a moment. "No new dating incidents…?" She asked slyly. At Rose's grimace, she nudged her chin towards the kitchen. "Come on, I'm sure there's some cake left in the cooling cabinet. You can give me all the gruesome details while your father entertains Jasmine."

While Rose hadn't had the nerve to tell her mother about the most horrible dates she had gone on – she only told her about the uneventful ones – Lavender was a different story. She didn't judge Rose, and merely laughed when was expected. She didn't worry for her, she didn't scold her – she wasn't Rose's mother. She was… more like friend to her.

"So, there was this guy, Tom…"

She explained what had happened during her shitty date, and Lavender actually fell off her chair after laughing so hard. When Rose's father and Jasmine appeared into the kitchen, and when Rose's father asked what had been so funny, Lavender merely kissed him on the cheek and told him that it was between her and Rose – knowing that Rose definitely didn't want to tell her father that she had been dating at all.

Rose knew her father meant good, but he was also nosy as hell. Rose still remembered the Christmas during her seventh year, when she had been dating Scorpius – the only boy she had ever dated longer than a week – and how her father had insisted that she brought him to dinner.

It had been horrible. Her father had basically given Scorpius the third degree, and even if some of it was likely because of Scorpius's father and Rose's father not getting along in school, it mostly was him being Rose's _father._

She wondered if Scorpius had been scarred for life. They hadn't really discussed it afterwards. Jasmine had been besotted by Scorpius, and Rose was glad that she had been so young at the time, that she didn't really remember him anymore.

"Rosie, come here," Her father murmured, smiling as he pulled Rose into a warm embrace.

Her father was tall, his ginger hair a shade or two lighter than Rose's. He had the exact same number of freckles spread across his long nose, and wore a grin that matched to Rose's. However, her father had always been more laid back than Rose or even Hugo – both of whom were nearly as uptight as their mother – and was always joking and making everyone feel at ease around him. Something Rose hoped she knew how to do as well.

"How is life?" Her father asked as they sat down at the table.

Lavender was fussing around with Jasmine, who was in the middle of a tantrum – something related to banana slices which she didn't like today.

Rose gave the same reply to him, as she had originally given to Lavender. "Just working in the coffee shop and nothing else. Hanging out with Scarlett."

"Hugo's… friend?" Her father asked nonchalantly, while cutting a rather marvellous piece of cake onto his plate.

Rose smirked. "Well, they were schoolmates, but nothing else, as far as I know." She knew Hugo had had a crush on Scarlett, sometime between their fourth and fifth year, but it had dried up rather quickly when Scarlett had started dating a bloke two years older than them.

He made a passive noise. "Didn't she go to train as a Healer as well?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah. Although, I doubt they see each other in the hospital – Scarlett's in Magical Occupational Therapy, while Hugo's in Accidents..."

"How is Hugo?" Her father asked, a hint of worry crossing his expression. "It's been a while since I've seen him…"

Rose gave him a tight smile. "He's working this weekend."

Her father nodded thoughtfully, before waving his wand and summoning a pot of tea from the counter.

"So, what's new on the joke front?" Rose asked as her father filled her cup, diving into his favourite topic – joking products – instead of continuing the evidently worrying topic of her brother. Rose's father ran the shop in Diagon Alley with Rose's uncle George.

Excitement flared in her father's eyes, as he hastily started to explain about their newest invention – _instant make-up-mask_ , which apparently came in different variations: the Subtle, the Jersey Shore, the Clown, the Noseless, and the Unibrow. Rose sniggered as her father explained how they had tested them with George once, and scared the shit out of Lavender, when she had popped by to visit them in the shop with Jasmine. Jasmine had merely giggled after seeing her father wearing the Jersey Shore mask, and George the Unibrow.

Rose's father also told her about other products, including the Weasleys' Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs thirty-year celebratory edition, which included screaming eagles, firecrackers with a timer – ' _a great way to sneak away and avoid getting caught' –_ as well as sparklers with editable words – which were mostly still spelling profanities, regardless what words the shopper had set up.

The day went on, and after the cake Rose spent a long while playing with Jasmine – who always made sure that all her toys got the same amount of attention from her visitors – while her father and Lavender prepared dinner.

After dinner, it was dark and rainy outside, but Rose felt lighter than she had felt in a while – the usual effect after leaving her father's place, as he succeeded to make her laugh every time. She said her goodbyes to them, gave Jasmine a long hug and then disapparated to her home.

She stilled in her hallway. "Scar? You home?" She called.

Her friend had been still sleeping when Rose had left home in the morning – which wasn't unusual, especially after Scarlett had been roaming the pubs with her friends from the hospital the previous night.

A low grunt carried to her from their sitting room. Rose toed off her shoes and walked further, smirking.

"Are we still not feeling – oh. Albus." Rose said in surprise as she turned the corner, facing Albus, who was lounging on the couch, playing with his phone, and Scarlett, who was slouched on the floor, leaning against the other end of the couch, a blanket hiding most of her figure, resembling much of a puddle.

Albus grinned. "Hey cousin." He said lightly, and stretched his back. "Found this sad excuse of a witch slogging across my neighbourhood."

Rose gave him an incredulous look. "Wh – "

"Lucky I bumped into her – she didn't have a wand nor a phone on her," Albus said with a shrug, grinning slyly at Scarlett, who let out a groan.

"WHAT?" Rose gasped, gaping at Scarlett. "Your – you lost your _wand?!"_

"… _Temporarily_." Mumbled Scarlett dryly from under the covers. "I left in a hurry…"

Rose's eyes moved quickly from Scarlett to Albus, and then back. "You what?" She then frowned, and looked towards Scarlett's room. "You… you weren't home in the morning?"

Albus snorted.

Rose ignored her cousin, and focused on her friend. "Scar…? What – what happened? I thought you were sleeping when I left!"

Scarlett sighed wearily, and pulled the blanket off from her face. She looked very, _very_ hungover, even though it was already close to seven in the evening. "I…no?" She said, wincing at Rose's shocked expression.

"Where were you?" Rose asked hastily, glancing at Albus. "In – in South Hampstead?"

Scarlett looked guilty. "Apparently."

"With whom?"

Scarlett squinted at Rose. "I… I don't know?" She said faintly.

" _Merlin_ ," Rose huffed, wondering if Scarlett had gone home with someone. "Start from the beginning," she said with a gentle but firm voice, and threw a quick, narrow-eyed look at Albus, who was now grinning and blatantly enjoying the situation.

Scarlett looked nauseated. She sighed. "We were in the pub in Diagon – well, we went to all three of them, if I remember correctly," she said and grimaced. "Then we went to Soho, and – Merlin, Rose, I _really_ don't remember!" She said with a distressed huff.

Rose pressed her lips together and sat down next to Albus, staring at her friend expectantly.

"We… Millie, Poe and I, and maybe there were still others from work, I don't know, we stayed until the last call, and at that point, I –" Scarlett groaned. "Bloody hell, I might get sick…"

Rose lifted her brows at her friend, urging her to continue.

"I was chatting with some blokes, and I _really_ don't have a clue how I got from the bar to his place," Scarlett said miserably.

Rose frowned. She could feel Albus shifting next to her.

"Did he force you?" Albus asked quietly.

Rose was somewhat glad that Albus was there to ask the rather uncomfortable question, that had been her first thought after Scarlett's reveal.

"Merlin, no!" Scarlett said quickly, shaking her head and then wincing at the obvious pain, "No, I'm sure of it." She muttered. "I was just…completely out of it. I remember going with him. We laughed…and the next thing I knew, I woke up this morning. In his bed."

Albus stifled a laugh. Rose elbowed him but kept her focus on Scarlett.

"What happened?" Rose asked carefully.

Scarlett pulled the blanket over her head. Albus was shaking in silent laughter.

"Quit it," Rose snapped at him, before wrenching the blanket away. " _Scar._ What happened?"

Scarlett's face twisted with revulsion. "I…woke up with half my clothes missing. He was wearing all of his, snoring next to me," she shuddered. "He looked – well, _not_ like I remember him from last night."

Rose gave her a bewildered look. "Did… did you…"

"… _Fuck_?" Albus quipped, rather unhelpfully.

" _Albus._ " Rose hissed at him, before turning to see the grimace on Scarlett's face. "Oh, Scar…"

Scarlett sighed. "I know," she grunted, "Disgusting. We didn't even. You know."

"Use a rub – "

"Albus for the love of Merlin!" Rose shrieked, wanting to shake her stupid, grinning cousin for finding Scarlett's discomfort so amusing.

Rose gave her friend a serious look. "What if you caught something? What if you're – you know. Pregnant."

Scarlett scoffed. "Do you think those weren't the first two spells I cast when I got home? To check that?" She asked harshly. "I'm good."

Rose sighed in relief. She then turned to glare at Albus. "And how do _you_ fit into this?"

Albus gave her an innocent look. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time," he said with a shrug. "Scar here had lost her purse, and didn't have any means to contact anyone, so naturally, I came to her aide." He said smugly.

Rose sniffed at him.

"I summoned her purse from the bloke's home and side-alonged her home."

Rose eyed her cousin for a moment, before she gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Albus."

Albus grinned. "No worries." He stood up and went to the kitchen. "Now that that's all sorted, can we watch that new horror film on Netflix? I've been dying to see it, but I can't get the bloody TV to work at my place, not to even mention the internet." he said as he rummaged Rose's and Scarlett's cupboards.

Rose lifted her brows at Scarlett, who shrugged, and then crawled onto the couch where Albus had sat, snuggling next to Rose. "Only if he'll make snacks."

Albus huffed a laugh from the kitchen. "What do you think I'm doing, witch?"

They settled in for the movie, with Rose and Scarlett sitting on the small couch, while Albus stretched on the floor, leaning against the couch on Rose's other side. They ate popcorn and watched probably the lamest horror film there was, and when it ended, lounged in the sitting room, chatting until it was getting late.


	6. James

**Chapter 6: James**

**Monday, 17 November, 2025**

James woke up to his wand buzzing next to his bed. He groaned in resign. It didn't have as much to do with the hour of the day – which was too early, in James's opinion – as it had with what he was expected to do in an hour.

Quidditch practice.

After his brother's party – after James had fucked everything up – his practices had been close to torture.

James had played poorly in every practice during the previous week. He kept dropping the Quaffle, couldn't catch it when either Oliver or Chuck passed it to him – to James's defence, both his teammates had been throwing the ball deliberately several feet from James, making it almost impossible to make the catch – and even his flying was rubbish.

They were bloody lucky that there had been a week without matches after playing against one of the other teams every week for ten weeks straight. But James knew that the current week was a completely different story. They were going to play against the Arrows on Saturday, and if a miracle didn't happen by then, James was sure they would lose the match – and their winning streak with it.

Because the truth was, that neither Oliver nor Chuck talked to James outside the grunts of greetings they gave him and everyone else in their locker rooms before practice. They mostly ignored James in the field as well, which meant that their game was nothing but terrible. James knew that if there was no change to the previous week, their manager would soon pull all three of them aside – which would be the second time in a short while for James.

He could still remember the exact intensity of their manager's scream of rage the previous Monday, after he had promptly ordered everyone but James to bugger off from the men's locker room. He had given James an earful while brandishing some magazine which evidently held a juicy story about James's Saturday night. His manager had given James a warning that if he didn't put his shit together during the season, he would be facing bench until it was decided differently.

James really didn't need another reprimanding from his manager.

He pushed his hands through his hair and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was going to do about the situation. He knew what he _should_ do – he should pull Oliver aside and apologise. The thing was – James didn't want to face his teammate. James didn't want to face the situation, where he would have to explain _why_ he had acted the way he had.

Why he had stared at Oliver the entire time when he had been on the dancefloor – why he had sought his friend's gaze the moment he locked lips with Rose's roommate. Why James had stared at his friend, as if he was proving something to him. _Why._

James _knew_ it, deep down.

After nearly a year of their friendship, there had been one night, when everything had changed. Before that, James had been sure of himself, sure of Oliver– he hadn't had any doubts about himself, or about their friendship. Until three months ago, when most of their team had decided to visit Chuck's cabin in Scotland, where they sozzled their way through the weekend, having one of the last parties before the season would start and they were back in their strict schedules.

James and Oliver had stayed up late one night, after the others had either went to bed or passed out. They had sat next to each other on a small couch in the cabin terrace, their knees touching as they chatted and stared at the dark forest opening in front of them. There had been several empty seats in the terrace after their occupants had abandoned them some time earlier. But neither of them had moved. They had talked about the upcoming season – which would only be a half season for Oliver with the Magpies, as he was on loan and would be returning back to Wimbourne Wasps in the beginning of January.

They had talked about the future, what each of them wanted to do after their careers. James wasn't sure if there was anything for him after Quidditch – he couldn't even see past next year, which would probably be the highpoint of his career. He was going to be in the English National team, and he was going to play in the Quidditch World Cup. He hadn't planned his life any further.

But Oliver had plans. He wanted to work for a broom manufacturer, to assemble and charm brooms. He had even studied it on the side of his Quidditch career, which was somewhat impressive. After all, they all had somewhat busy schedules, having practices four to five days a week and playing twenty-six matches during the season. Only Wednesdays and most of the Sundays were days off, which were mostly spent by resting. Of course, they didn't spend all day, every day on their brooms, practicing the game. They went through tactics, their game strategy, had different workouts and practices: The Seeker, the Keeper, the Beaters and the Chasers all had their own unique drills on the ground and in the air. Their days were long and tiring, and James couldn't even imagine of studying after stumbling into his home every night. Besides their long days, and the several hours of physically exhausting practice, they all had a sleeping schedule, to gain enough sleep – as well as a diet, to receive proper nutrition.

They lived by strict rules – but they also won the league every year.

But when it was off-season, it was another thing. James and some of his teammates spent their summers partying, travelling and relaxing. For some reason, James was usually the one to end up in the papers after being out and about. He knew that just by being a Potter and the 'Saviour's son' played a large part in his so-called fame, but also, James was painfully aware that sometimes, he did let things go a bit out of hand.

In the cabin, on the couch and surrounded by darkness, Oliver had put his hand over James's, and curled his fingers gently over the back of James's hand.

He hadn't even looked at James, and had kept his gaze forward. James had stiffened, but hadn't moved. He hadn't dared to move. He had been petrified and bewildered and – and curious. The hand over his had felt warm, and part of him didn't want Oliver to pull it away. It had been…comforting. James had turned his head only slightly towards Oliver, his gaze trained at their hands. Their hands looked a bit odd, but…they didn't look _wrong._ James had felt his heart beating fast in his chest and he had opened his mouth in order to say something – he still didn't know why exactly, but at that moment, he hadn't been able to lift his gaze up to meet Oliver's.

The moment had been cut short by a rather bothersome vomiting sound carrying from the inside of the cabin.

Oliver had pulled his hand away, and James had gripped his beer bottle with both hands, pressing his mouth shut and keeping his gaze on his drink, while all kinds of thoughts had flickered in and out of his mind.

They hadn't spoken about it afterwards, but that night, something had shifted between them. James didn't see Oliver the same way he had – and he was sure that Oliver was looking at James differently. As if he was trying to tell James something. James didn't know what to think of it for many weeks, until he had realised what it was. And then he had decided to avoid his friend as much as possible. Until the night of Albus's party.

James had invited Oliver and Chuck, and had known they would come – of course they would. James had been rather shitfaced, and something in him had made him do it. Something had made him show Oliver that James wasn't who Oliver thought. That Oliver didn't have the right to define James.

So, James had snogged a girl he had no interest in, just to make Oliver see that James was with whoever the hell he wanted, and that he was whoever he wanted to be. He had known, deep down, that he had wanted to hurt Oliver for assuming that James thought Oliver to be more than a friend.

Which had felt like a mature thing to do in his remarkably inebriated state.

And why James had acted the way he had – why he had yelled at his friend and told him to fuck off and leave James be, was quite simple. He was scared shitless to face Oliver and face whatever it was that had happened between them after that night in the cabin.

He let out a weary sigh and stood up from his bed. It was going to be a long day – a long day of avoiding eyes, of trying to be impassive.

He had to talk to Oliver. He had to apologise.

As James came out of the shower and stared at himself in the mirror, performing his usual grooming spells, his thoughts flickered to Scarlett. Rose had come to his place the day after the party, screaming from the top of her lungs while threatening to hex his bollocks off. James had been a bit out of it – groggy and bleary, his brain still sluggishly hungover – but he had realised that what he had done the previous night wasn't going to go away by itself, and that he would have to apologise to Scarlett as well.

He was certain Rose would hang him by his balls if he didn't.

After having breakfast – three egg whites, oatmeal, banana and a lot of water – he let out a last, weary sigh and apparated to practice.

"Morning, Potter." Their manager Johnson said firmly when James met him in the hallway. "Hope you had a good rest."

James nodded, his lips tightening as he saw the flicker of concern in Johnson's eyes. "Morning, coach." He grunted, moving past him towards the locker room. Both Chuck and Oliver were there, nodding their good mornings, as did their reserve Chaser Dylan.

"Okay, everyone! Head to the pitch for a warmup, we'll start in thirty with your favourite workout!" Johnson yelled from the hallway, his booming voice surely reaching the women's locker room as well.

Several groans of frustration echoed from different parts of the men's locker room, and James could hear Johnson sniggering as he walked away.

Chuck and Oliver left without a word, while Dylan was still rummaging through his bag.

"Alright, Adams?" James asked, throwing his bag on the bench and pulling his trainers from his bag.

He was already geared up in his tracksuit and only needed to change his boots.

Dylan glanced at James, grinning slightly. "Yeah, great thanks. You?"

James shrugged. "Could've used the sleep."

"Like we all," Dylan muttered, pulling a bottle of water from his bag, before pushing the bag into his locker. "Anything exciting during the weekend?"

James gave him a wry smile, knowing that Dylan's question didn't have anything to do with what happened the previous weekend, and that the bloke was simply being conversational.

"Yeah, had a date with my couch."

Dylan huffed a laugh. "Same." He said, and then nudged his head to the doors. "See you in bit."

James nodded and then he was alone in the locker room. He sat there for a couple of more minutes, breathing in the silence, preparing himself for the run and the leg day that was surely waiting him in the gym. It was going to be another long week.

James ran his laps with Dylan and Zara – also one of the reserve Chasers. Their keepers Mason and Riley – the latter being the reserve Keeper – were right on their heels. As the group ran, they chatted about their weekends, and laughed as Zara told them about an incident that had happened to her fiancé on Saturday. Apparently, the bloke had forgot his keys and his wand inside their house when he had gone out to walk their dog, and as Zara had been at practice, he had tried to climb through the open window on the first floor. He had fallen and landed straight into the rose bushes under the windows. They had gone to St Mungo's to pluck out a dozen thorns sunk deep in Zara's fiancé's arse neither of them was able to summon out by magic.

"Chivvy along, ladies!" Mason yelled behind them, laughing when Dylan gave him two fingers.

James chuckled. "Sod off, Clarke," He yelled to Mason, turning to run backwards. "We all know you'd rather be here to keep watch over your precious little hoops than at the gym," he said with a smirk, and both Dylan and Riley sniggered. It was their usual behaviour – teasing and baiting each other.

Mason lifted his hands up innocently. "What can I say? I hate it when you guys score my girls."

There was a short silence, and then both Dylan and Zara burst in laughter. " – your _girls_?!" Zara whooped in mid-laugh while still trying to keep her pace.

James stared at Mason before shaking his head in a mix of exasperation and bewilderment. He turned back around. "…You just had to make it weird, Clarke?"

As they finished their laps thirty minutes later, they went back inside. They indeed had leg workout waiting for them, followed by a flying practice. After flying, they had a break during which they had lunch and lounged a bit in the team's sitting room. In the afternoon, they separated into small groups: Chasers into their own, Keepers, Seekers and Beaters into theirs.

James and the rest of the Chasers took one of the practice fields. The Magpies had three: two smaller fields for individual practices and one large field that was surrounded by stands, where they practiced the game with the balls and had their actual matches as well.

They were flying on their brooms, running through the usual tactics: Hawkshead Attacking Formation – where the Chasers fly together in an arrowhead towards the opposition goalposts, Woollongong Shimmy – where the Chasers speed ahead in a zig-zag move, and the Porskoff Ploy – where one of the Chaser flies high upwards with the Quaffle and then drops it down to a fellow Chaser. The last tactic hadn't really been working the previous week, as neither Chuck nor Oliver had even looked where James had been flying, causing him to miss the catch. Naturally, when one of them had been down to catch the ball, they hadn't had any problems with the move.

Fifteen minutes later James was cursing inwardly, as it seemed that the current practice was following the same pattern as last week.

"Just fucking look where I am, Wright!" James yelled angrily at Oliver, who had dropped the ball from an impossible distance to James.

Chuck huffed, shaking his head as he went to pick up the Quaffle from the ground. James ignored him and glared at Oliver.

Oliver seethed. "If you wouldn't be so bloody slow, Potter, we'd have our goal!"

"You're sabotaging the throw on purpose!" James growled, flying towards his teammate.

Oliver gave him a mirthless laugh. And James knew he was right – the guy didn't even try to deny it.

"What the hell is your problem?" James hissed when they were facing each other, hovering higher in the air than the rest of their teammates.

Oliver scoffed. " _My_ problem? _My,_ you ask?" He said, shaking his head. "You've got to be shitting, me, Potter."

James took note of his teammate's cold voice. He ground his teeth together, trying to stay calm, but it was too much. "Yeah, your problem, you bloody twat!" James yelled, "You're bringing all this shit into practice, making it fucking impossible for the rest of us." He growled. "You're risking our position in the league on purpose!"

"Oh?!" Oliver yelled back. "So, my ' _problem'_ couldn't in any way be a result of complete lack of trust in my teammate, who acts like a bloody knobber outside Quidditch, thus affecting my game?!"

James swallowed hard. "Sounds like a problem on your side, if you're unable to separate work and free time."

Oliver looked livid. "Yeah. I suppose," he said after a short silence. "And I'm fucking glad I'll be rid of it in two months."

James swallowed a mouthful of curses. It wasn't supposed to go like this – he wasn't supposed to throw more fuel into the fire. He was supposed to apologise. But seeing Oliver now, it made him so, so angry, that he wanted to knock the bloody wanker off his broom.

"Potter! Wright!" Their manager yelled suddenly from the ground. "Bench."

James's jaw clenched – he wanted to lash out to Johnson as well, for being a prick and not seeing that Oliver was the one with the problem here, but kept his mouth shut and flew to the sidelines of the pitch, where their manager waited patiently, his face a mask of indifference, but his eyes glowing with fury.

"Gentlemen," Johnson said calmly as both James and Oliver had landed smoothly in front of him. "You remember we have a game coming up this week? Huh?" He growled. "You better solve your shit out, or you'll be seeing a _lot_ of this bench for the rest of the year." He said with a threatening voice, pointing his finger at the long bench behind them, before turning on his heels. His eyes lingered on James's face. "You're on thin ice, Potter."

James felt both nauseated and furious.

"Adams! Brown! Carry on with Harris." Johnson yelled, and then stormed off the pitch, moving to oversee the other members of the team.

Oliver shook his head in frustration, looking away from James.

"Oliver –"

"Don't fucking 'Oliver' me, James! If you're not gonna explain what the fuck went through your head last weekend, don't bother talking to me at all." Oliver said exasperatedly, turning to look James right into his eyes.

James sucked at his teeth for a moment. "I dunno what to say. I'm sorry." He ground his teeth before continuing, "Maybe we shouldn't spend time together off practice anymore."

Oliver huffed, looking at James with a look that James didn't know how to place. Something close to realisation. "Whatever." Oliver said after a short silence. "I'll be here, at practice. And do my part. But don't expect anything more," He continued and turned to walk towards the locker rooms.

James felt something unpleasant clawing its way up his throat. "Didn't ask for more." He said furiously, which was an outright lie. They were friends. They had been friends for a long time. But after that night, James couldn't see a way back to what they had been before.

Oliver turned around, staring at James in utter surprise. "Prick." He said through his teeth and turned to walk away from James.

And James felt like one.

* * *

Later that night, when James got home, he was exhausted. After promising to Johnson that both James and Oliver were handling their issues and would focus on the game and nothing else, their manager had let both men play in the practice game, in which their regular team played against the reserve team with the Quaffle, Bludgers and the Snitch in the air. It had started to rain two minutes in the game, which had felt like icy needles in the brisk weather, and they had all been soaked at the end of it, their teeth clattering as they had retreated to their locker rooms to perform heating charms. The practice game hadn't gone badly, but it hadn't been their best either.

After James ate his dinner – chicken pasta with pesto sauce – there was an owl tapping its beak on his kitchen window. He glanced at the animal and groaned. It was his mother. It had to be the sixth letter from her during the past week. She hadn't been trying to force herself into his house – and there was no use, since James kept his floo closed and his place heavily warded – but she had been in contact almost daily. Always asking how he was doing, telling him that he should think before acting, telling him to focus on the future now, to focus on the Cup next year. She always told him that she was there for him, if he wanted to talk.

He didn't. James wasn't angry at his parents, but they just – they didn't understand what James was going through, and they didn't understand that James didn't really agree to their views. They – and many others, it seemed – thought that what James sometimes did, was wrong. That James wasn't supposed to do the things he liked or wanted if it didn't fit his image. Everyone seemed to think that James was supposed to act like an example. He hated it. He wanted to decide for himself, and not let other people define what the right thing to do was and what not.

And James reckoned he did act the part during the season – mostly.

He loved Quidditch, but hated everything that came with it. James knew his brother had been fixing his mistakes during the previous summers and during the past year, whenever James had let himself enjoy life and explore what was outside Quidditch. James didn't need his brother to save his arse, even though he knew that for instance, messing around with drugs hadn't been his brightest moments nor decisions, and was grateful Albus had managed to make those stories disappear without consequences. But everything else James did – it wasn't essentially _bad._ Just… undesirable.

He took the letter, threw a couple of owl candies to the animal, and opened the letter, his eyes moving quickly over his mother's handwriting. He grabbed a quill and scribbled down a short response, before giving the letter back to the owl's outstretched claw.

She had written about attending the next match. James stifled a laugh, knowing that she had never missed one. James's mother had been in his every match, always supporting him, always cheering for him. Something his father rarely did – and not because he didn't want to come, but because his work seemed to come before his family. Or at least, before James's games.

Of his family, James's mother was usually the only one who attended James's matches. James's father had been married to his job for a long time, and now that he didn't have one, he seemed to spend his days in the shed, being completely useless. Albus wasn't interested attending matches outside of his job, Lily was usually at school during the season, and most of James's cousins had other, more important things to accomplish. Rose and Hugo came at times, as did James's uncles Ron and George.

After graduating Hogwarts, James had felt closer to his teammates than to his family or friends. After all, he spent the majority of the week with them, and sometimes, many hours during their days off. The team _was_ his family. And now he had managed to fuck it up with Oliver. And probably with Chuck as well.

He lounged on the couch and stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over Oliver's contact, all the while knowing that even though being honest sounded simple, it felt overwhelmingly difficult. Eventually, he sighed wearily and scrolled down to Rose's contact.

He typed a quick message to his cousin, asking if he could pop by on Wednesday, to apologise to Scarlett. Rose replied to him a moment later, telling him to come by after five in the afternoon.

James threw the phone next to him on the couch, leaning his head against the headrest while feeling exhaustion rippling over him.

He had five weeks before the Christmas hols. He still had time to fix things between him and Oliver. Now he had a game to focus on.


	7. Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Chapter 7: Hermione**

**Wednesday, 19 November, 2025**

Hermione apparated into Harry's and Ginny's garden, feeling their wards allow her to pass. It was two in the afternoon, and as Hermione had left early from work, she thought she would have to return to Hammersmith Campus later that night in order to finish her bit of the journal article regarding _the physiology and immunology of pregnancy and therapeutic approaches to optimise the care of pregnant women and their babies_.

Hammersmith Campus was one of the medical teaching and research campuses in Imperial College London, where Hermione worked as a Professor of Infectious Diseases. The campus was based around the Hammersmith Hospital facilities, where their section provided both clinical and non-clinical education in infection, as well as engaged in several different research themes. In addition to the occasional articles and her lectures, Hermione focused on a research regarding the relation between pathogen and host immune response, along with her colleagues in the department.

Hermione rarely used magic these days, except when facing a horrendous commute – which was every time she visited Harry and Ginny in Winkfield.

The Potters lived in a beautiful, red brick Georgian period house that was set within excessive gardens and grounds, with many trees and ponds, a lake further from the house, and a large Quidditch field.

Hermione had agreed to meet Ginny at the Pilates studio in Richmond in three hours, knowing that her friend was still at work until four. Ginny was co-coaching the Harpies with the team's long-time manager who had faced some health issues earlier in the year, and had reached out to Hermione's friend for help. What Hermione understood, was that Ginny was paid a good deal of money for her job – which didn't matter one bit, as Ginny had made enough money by playing for the team for many years, and Hermione reckoned Ginny would've probably done it for free.

With Ginny at work, left Harry alone in the house. Which was a perfect setting for a little heart to heart discussion between Hermione and him.

Hermione walked quietly towards the shed where she had last seen her friend, and where Ginny had told her Harry was spending all his time these days.

"Harry?" She called outside the closed wooden doors. "Are you there? Can I come in?"

There was a shuffling sound, and then a reply with a scratchy tone. "Sure."

Hermione steadied herself as she pulled the door open and took in the sight in front of her.

There was a mixture of objects in every surface and scattered over the floor: wooden objects, cups, bowls and even chairs and stools. It was quite the same as what had been the last time Hermione had visited her friend, which she thought with a small twinge in her chest, was too long ago.

"Hello Harry," She said, summoning a kind smile on her lips, as she gave him a once over.

Harry hadn't been shaving for a while, nor cutting his hair. It was a lot longer than before, pushed behind his ears, the black messy tips peeking under them. His glasses were new though, and Hermione thought with mild amusement that the man had finally learned how to repair them after letting Hermione do the task for seven years in their school.

"Mione," Harry murmured, wiping his hands to his jeans. "Gin's not home, if you were looking for her?"

Hermione watched around her slowly, trying to see if there was anywhere she could sit down. She settled onto one of the stools that looked sturdy enough. "You did this?" She asked with interest, glancing at the wooden stool under her.

Harry gave her a slightly impatient noise, his eyes moving over her carefully. "Yeah."

"I'm not here for Ginny," Hermione said simply, answering his question.

Harry sighed, rubbing his neck. "Figured as much."

Hermione frowned at him. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something?" She asked calmly.

Harry gave her a pointed look. "No. Not yet, at least. I suppose you came here wishing to talk – to – to make sense in me, or something like that. I'm I wrong?" He asked airily, leaning against a work desk, while keeping his eyes at her.

"I…" She started with, and then sighed. "Yes, I was hoping to talk to you. To understand a bit more what you are going through, and – well – see if I could help somehow."

Harry looked mildly embarrassed. "Oh." He murmured, and looked down at his hands.

"Harry…no one wants to force you into anything. No one is telling you to act differently."

Harry let out a dry laugh, still not looking at Hermione. "You'd be surprised…"

Hermione watched him quietly. "It's hard. Hard to see someone you care about, going through a rough patch. It is terrible to watch someone you love hurting."

Harry licked his lips, but remained quiet.

"Do you remember the time after the war?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry nodded, glancing at Hermione. "Ron and I went straight to Auror training, and you went back to Hogwarts."

Hermione gave Harry a searching look. "Did Ron ever tell you about the summer before the training, when he had nightmares? Before I went back to school? When we all lived in Grimmauld Place?"

Harry lifted his brows. "Yeah – well, nothing specific. As I recall, we were all having nightmares during the summer."

"And what about the one night when he tried to strangle me in his sleep?"

Harry gaped at Hermione, his eyes nearly bulging off his head. "H-He w-what?" He gasped, stumbling to stand up. "Hermione?!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile ruefully at her friend, who looked like he was about to go and avenge something that not only happened almost twenty years ago, but had been discussed thoroughly between Hermione and Ron during the following months of the incident.

Ron had been having nightmares for weeks – like they all had – and one night, he had dreamt about his late brother Fred. In his dream, he had tried to strangle the Death Eater who had caused his brother's death. The Death Eater was unfortunately unassuming Hermione, sleeping next to her boyfriend, and had been utterly shocked and terrified by what he had done.

"We're fine now, Harry." She said calmingly. "He was dreaming, and it never happened again after that."

Harry was silent for a long while, staring at her, his eyes moving rapidly over her face. "You… you moved to sleep in a different room," Harry said faintly.

Hermione nodded. "I did. Ron didn't want to be close to me, he was so afraid," Hermione admitted. "We talked it through during the following weeks, and I knew from the start that it had been an accident – I knew and still know that he would never hurt me intentionally," She said, and then grimaced. "…Not physically, at least."

Their divorce was another story – without physical violence, but filled by bitterness, vengeance and childish behaviour. Obviously, they had been both hurt by some of it, but never physically hurt.

Harry watched her in stupor, his jaw tensing.

"He was so afraid that he might hurt me again, that he pulled away. We rarely spent time alone after that – and instead were always with you and Ginny, or at the Burrow, or at my parents' home. It just seemed…easier that way," Hermione said with a thoughtful voice, as she recalled the events.

Harry looked helpless. "How didn't _I_ know about this? Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked hurt and worried and… angry.

Hermione sighed. "When it happened, I didn't want anyone to know – I wanted to solve it with Ron first. I told Ron not to say anything to you, even though I knew he wanted to tell you. I wanted it to be handled between us, and – well – I was afraid you'd go after Ron." Hermione said, cringing at the words. They had all been somewhat unstable then, and Hermione knew that Harry – or anyone close to them for that matter – wouldn't have taken it well.

Harry growled under his breath. "I would've."

"That merely proves my point," Hermione said and suppressed an eyeroll. "We figured it out. It took a while, but in the end, everything got better between us." She said steadily.

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "How?"

And that was essentially where Hermione had been hoping their conversation would go. For Harry to realise that it was okay to seek help from outside – that other people too had had their problems which couldn't have been solved without outside help. That he too could get through his problems.

"Ron – he got help. He started seeing a Mind Healer. We both did," Hermione said cautiously, her eyes moving over Harry's face to see his reaction. "He went to St Mungo's every Sunday morning, and I met a specialist at Hogwarts. We talked about our problems, about our fears – everything and anything that was causing us pain and distress. And I can only speak on my behalf, but the Healer I saw, for more than six months: she didn't only listen, but helped me to figure out the way out – back to normal."

Harry's face was blank, but he was listening carefully.

After a short silence, he pulled his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses going askew. "You think I should see one too, right?" He asked, not looking at her.

Hermione sighed. "It doesn't matter what I think, Harry. _You_ will need to be the one who decides what you want to do, and how do you want to deal with it."

"What if it doesn't help?" Harry asked then, his voice soft.

"Then you have at least tried."

Harry swallowed hard. "I don't want to remember it. I don't know if I can go through it again…"

Hermione remained silent, giving Harry time to get it out of his chest. It was the first time he had mentioned the incident to her.

"You know he killed himself in front of her?" Harry asked suddenly, despair in his voice. "Right after cursing me?"

"Yes." Hermione said silently. Hermione had talked with Ginny many, many times when she had helped her friend go through the awful incident, trying to support her to live with the memories.

"So – why _I'm_ the one with the problem in here?" Harry asked in frustration and started to pace in front of Hermione. "Why it's _me_ who's messed up? Why not her? She was the one who had to witness her husband take a curse in his chest, and watch a man kill himself in front of her eyes!" He nearly yelled.

"Why –" His words were cut off as he grabbed his head and tugged at his hair. " _Bloody hell!_ "

Hermione watched Harry for a moment. "You feel guilty?"

"You THINK?!" Harry roared, looking harried.

Hermione ignored his outburst and simply nodded at him slowly. "Understandable. You had been worried for her, and for your children for so long – long before that man came into the picture. You had to live through weeks of him threatening you, of him following your children, torn between the urge to run and to fight back. You tried to protect your family and tried not to let him win. You tried not to allow a criminal set the rules of the game."

"And then, one day, he had intruded your home, and everything you had feared and dreaded was happening in front of your eyes. Ginny was in danger. Ginny was being threatened." Hermione spoke in a calm voice.

"He didn't – she – Gin told me he was looking for me…" Harry said with a nauseating look. "If I wasn't me… If I wasn't the –"

"Don't you dare start with the 'if I wasn't the Chosen One' routine, Harry Potter," Hermione said sharply, interrupting him. "You think the man wouldn't have taken the same actions if one of your Auror colleagues had sent him into Azkaban ten years ago?" She asked with a harsh voice.

Harry gave her a desperate look and sunk to sit on the edge of the desk, opposite to Hermione. "I can't go back." He said, shaking his head and looking at the floor. "I can't live like I did before…"

Hermione watched him for a moment. "Nobody's asking you to return to past, Harry. What I – and everyone who loves you, really – hope, is that you accept it happened. It might never go away, but you can't move on with your life if it is what controls you. What I wish, is that you can find joy in your life again, and accept the support and care from the ones who love you."

Harry's jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat. "I almost hurt her."

Hermione stayed silent. She knew about the incident, and knew that Harry knew Hermione was aware, but she didn't want to interrupt Harry. She still remembered vividly the next day it had happened, when Ginny had appeared on her doorstep, looking shaken and asking if she could spend a night at Hermione's place. They had talked a lot, had gone through the events of the previous night, and Ginny had even slept next to Hermione that night, jumping up from the bed in alert after every faint noise that carried from outside the house or from Hugo's room. It had been one of the few times Hermione had ever seen her friend that vulnerable.

"…One night, after the hospital," Harry started to explain with a quiet voice, "I had – bad dreams," Harry said, his voice thick. "I don't even remember what I dreamt about. But it was horrible…"

Hermione gave him an encouraging nod when Harry looked up to her.

"And I felt it – my magic – gathering inside me, bursting to get out, to destroy everything," he said faintly, a deep frown between his brows.

"I woke up from our bedroom floor – or what was left of our bedroom – and – and –" Harry's voice broke and he took in a stuttering breath. "When I didn't see her, I thought –" he gasped, pulling off his glasses and throwing them to the desk before pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"…You thought you had killed her." Hermione said quietly, feeling nauseated and so, so sorry for him. She took in a calming breath, blinking away the wetness from her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry," she said quietly.

"You know that she doesn't blame you for what happened, right?" Hermione asked after a short silence.

Harry sighed, sliding his hands up and through his hair, nodding at Hermione, a stricken look on his face. His eyes were reddened and wet.

"I don't want to hurt her…" He said wearily, pulling his glasses back on.

Hermione nodded. "Ginny's a brilliant witch. I'm sure she has already figured out a dozen ways to prevent it from happening again. Just – talk to her, Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Don't know if that'll be enough…" Harry said, a somewhat unsure look in his eyes. "The – the Healer – the one Ron saw…?"

Hermione forced herself to stay unresponsive. "Healer Hickey?"

"Yeah."

They had tea and didn't speak more about the incident, and only brushed the topic of Healers when Hermione told Harry how her children were: how Rose was still working in the coffee shop, unable to decide what to do with her future and how Hugo was spending all his time at St Mungo's, either in training or taking extra shifts after his training hours.

She told Harry that she was worried for both of them. She worried that Rose would lose many opportunities that were only available now, and that her daughter would wake up one day in five or ten years, and regret her past. She told him that Hugo on the other hand, was working himself into exhaustion. She knew Hugo loved his training, and that he loved being able to help people, but Hermione knew from her own experience, that people were not machines. That sooner or later, Hugo would need to slow down a bit. She told Harry that she felt powerless, that she had tried to talk to both of her children, but they were adults now, making their own decisions and not really listening to her advice.

Harry listened, perhaps not with the same enthusiasm or intent he had done in their past, but still, it was clear to Hermione that he tried. Harry told Hermione that he knew he hadn't been enough in his children's lives recently, and that he hoped he could fix it.

"They're all grown up, Harry. I'm sure they'll understand." Hermione told him softly.

Harry didn't seem like he wanted to continue the discussion, and instead proceeded to show Hermione what he had been working on in his shed.

Hermione stayed a bit longer, and left only fifteen minutes before Ginny was due to come back home from work. She apparated into her home, changed her clothes and ate a salad.

Right as she was heading out, deciding to walk the short distance to the studio, Hugo walked through the front door.

"Hugo!" Hermione said, surprised.

They stood silently in the hallway for a moment, before Hugo sniggered. "Yes – I'm alive, mum." He kicked off his shoes and hung his coat before walking closer and pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. Hermione detected the familiar smell of a hospital: potions and disinfectant.

"And I'm famished. Do we have anything to eat? You going out?" Hugo asked, his questions coming speedily after another.

Hermione processed his words. "Yes, of course – check the kitchen. I'm going to Pilates with your aunt." She said quickly, and then frowned as Hugo was already walking towards the kitchen. "Hugo?"

Hugo stilled in the doorway that led to the kitchen, arching his back to look at her. "Yeah?"

"Don't – don't leave before I get home, okay?" Hermione asked, and smiled. "It's been ages since I've talked with you…"

Hugo gave her a weary grin. "'m not going anywhere. I'll try to stay awake," He added with a wide yawn.

Hermione smiled at him, and then remembered the time. "I'll be back in a little over an hour!"

Hugo waved his hand at her, proceeding towards the kitchen.

* * *

"Merlin's tits!" Ginny outright yelled as soon as she stepped into the studio.

Everyone stared at them, and Hermione could feel her neck burning with embarrassment. But her friend was grinning widely, and nearly knocking them both over as she lunged at Hermione, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I can't bloody believe it!" Ginny whooped.

"Ginny," Hermione reprimanded, after hearing someone clear their throat behind them.

The class hadn't started yet, but nearly everyone was there. Ginny pulled back and shook her head in bewilderment, gazing at Hermione in awe.

"Harry is going to see a Mind Healer?" Hermione asked quietly, after glancing around them and making sure no one was listening.

"Yes, he bloody well is! And it's all thanks to you, Mione!" Ginny whispered urgently, looking like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She looked happier than she had been in a long time.

Hermione smiled and sat down on her mat. "I'm happy to help."

Ginny placed her own mat next to Hermione's, and stared at her with a confused look. " _How_ did you get through to him?" She asked, as their instructor walked into the front of the class.

Hermione had never told Ginny – or anyone else, for that matter – about the incident between Ron and her, and she didn't want to start explaining in the middle of their class. She knew that her friend deserved to know, even more so when Ginny herself was facing similar difficulties. Hermione had originally thought that she would never tell anyone about it, but knew that it had been essential for Harry to know. And now, she thought that Ginny would soon learn the truth as well.

She shrugged at her friend. "I suppose he needed – and still needs to – talk to someone who wasn't there that day," She said with an apologising look.

Ginny nodded slowly, looking pained. "Yeah. I suppose."

"You're okay, Gin?" Hermione asked carefully, right as their instructor started to speak.

"Okay everyone, find the centre of your mat and sit down," Their instructor said, and everyone began shuffling around them.

Ginny grimaced. "I'm not sure. I mean, yeah, of course I'm excited, but at the same time, it kind of opens up a bunch of other questions and doubts…"

Hermione nodded. "Can we talk about it later?" She asked, taking her place on the mat. "Would you like to come by on Friday?"

" _We'll start with Pilates one hundred_."

"Yeah, I'd like that!" Ginny said and rolled down on her back.

"… _Pull your bellybutton to the spine._ "

Ginny snorted and glanced at their instructor before turning her head towards Hermione. "Can't really do that with the burger and fries I just inhaled five minutes ago," She murmured under her breath.

Hermione rolled her eyes and lifted her legs and her head, before beginning to move her arms.

Ginny too mimicked their instructor, but soon let out a quiet groan. "I can literally feel it crawling up to my throat in this position…" Ginny whispered thickly.

Hermione shushed her friend.

They managed a few positions without talking, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised how well Ginny was doing for a first-timer, until they were asked to lift their legs up, grab their ankles and roll back and forth on their backs, always stopping in the upright position.

"How. The. Bloody. Hell. I'm. Supposed. To. Roll. Up." Ginny grunted each word while she rolled nonstop on her back, unable to hold and balance in the upright position, resembling quite a lot like a baby seal to Hermione, who had to stifle a laugh and focus on her own move set.

" _Use your core to pull your body up."_

"… _What_ _core?!"_ Ginny hissed through her teeth, and dropped her legs down, resting her head on the mat. "This is mad, Mione. I don't know how you do it!"

Hermione did the last round of the position and turned to her friend, feeling a nice burn in her abdomen. "Practice?"

"I work out. I'm fit." Ginny said stubbornly, and Hermione suppressed a smirk.

"I know." Hermione said innocently, secretly cheering that for once, she was more advanced in a workout or sport than her friend. "You just need practice."

Ginny looked sour, but continued to do the rest of the positions with the class, occasionally growling her frustration.

* * *

When Hermione got back home, she was relieved to find Hugo still there, lounging in the sitting room in front of the telly, an empty plate on his lap.

"Hello, darling," Hermione said softly and sat down next to him. "What are we watching?"

Hugo let out a noncommittal grunt, and shrugged. "Dunno if I was even watching it…I can't really focus after a shift."

He looked tired: there were definite circles under his eyes, and even his complexion was ashy. He looked thinner and older than he really was.

"Hugo…"

Hugo groaned and leaned forwards to put the plate on the coffee table. "Mum. Don't," He said and gave her a pained look. "I don't wanna talk about my work or the apprenticeship."

Hermione watched him for a moment, and there were so many things she wanted to say to him. She wanted to tell him to wake the bloody hell up, to realise what he was doing to himself. That in the end, no one would be thanking him, not even he himself. No, Hermione was sure Hugo would look back and regret that he had given up his health and time that could have been spent so differently – time he wouldn't get back. She wanted to tell him how she had been exactly like him when she had been in school and had thought she could fool time in order to study, but had eventually realised that she couldn't.

She swallowed down the heavy concern and pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to chide him, to not say what he had been expecting to hear the moment she laid her eyes on him. Instead, she raked her fingers through her son's hair, like she had always done to soothe him, and in moments, Hugo was melting against the sofa cushions, his head dropping against the backrest.

"Circe… I'll fall asleep." Hugo mumbled.

Hermione huffed with amusement. "I don't know how that's a bad thing…Unless you want to talk?"

Hugo hummed, closing his eyes. "Good point."

They were silent for a while, until Hugo's lips turned into a small smirk. "What's this I hear about a bloke you're seeing?"

Hermione's hand stilled. Hugo snorted, and opened his eyes. Hermione pulled her hand away and gave her son a serious look. She had wanted to talk to Hugo about Bruce, even though it was still a new thing. But Rose had seen him, and evidently knew that Bruce wasn't just a friend of hers.

She took in a deep breath. "Hugo –"

"It's fine, mum. Chill. It's not like I'd mind if you had a boyfriend."

Hermione grimaced. "He's not really a boy – and I don't know if I'd even call him that…yet."

Hugo watched her steadily. "I'd like to meet him."

Hermione smiled. "Of course. Will you be home next Sunday? When Rose will come as well?"

"Sure," Hugo said with a shrug. He glanced at the telly. "Wanna watch a movie?"

Hermione knew she had the article to be finished – that she had left work early to meet Harry – but she also knew that time with Hugo was so rare these days, that she definitely didn't want to turn him down. There was always the next day, and the article wasn't due in for a week anyway.

"You can choose. I'll be back in a bit," she said to him and pressed a kiss on the top of his head, before she stood up and went upstairs to change her clothes.


	8. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading :)

**Chapter 8: Rose**

**Saturday, 22 November, 2025**

“Come on, Rose, we’ll miss the game soon!” Hugo yelled from the sitting room, where he was waiting with their father.

Rose rolled her eyes at the mirror in her bedroom, finishing the spell to tame her frizzy hair, and heard her brother ask Scarlett if she was sure she wasn’t going to join them.

“…I mean, James _did_ come by and apologised, right?” Hugo continued.

James had come over the previous Wednesday, and had expressed his apologies to both Scarlett and Rose, telling them how there was no excuse for him to act the way he had, and that he was sorry. It had been awkward, and Rose was glad it had been a short visit. She was also rather sure Scarlett was done with her silly crush on Rose’s cousin.

“Oh, yes.” Rose heard Scarlett reply with a snarky voice. “I’m just itching to make him think I’m hung up on him or something – which I’m sure he would think if I showed up there.”

Rose’s father snorted.

“Scar, it’s not really –”

“On the other hand, Hugo, my lovely friend – I think you’re right. I think I _should_ come, just to make him uncomfortable…”

Rose sighed and barged into the sitting room. “You’re not allowed to come.” She said bluntly to Scarlett, before turning to Hugo and her father. “Well? I’m ready.”

Hugo stared at her for a moment. “Jeesh, Rose, you sure you’re going to a Quidditch game?” Hugo asked teasingly, winking at her.

Rose narrowed her eyes at her brother and tried to grab him to shake him, but Hugo was faster, sniggering as he slipped behind their father who was standing in the middle of the room, looking exasperated. There was nothing wrong with her attire – her black jeans and white jumper were exactly what someone wore into a Quidditch match, but her hair and makeup… she might’ve spent a little more time on them than she usually did.

It wasn’t that Rose was hoping to attract an eye of anyone – but they _were_ going to watch a bunch of fit men flying on their brooms for some hours. At least she was prepared.

“Still acting like small kids, I see…” Their father grunted, shaking his head. “Well, Scarlett, good to see you,” He said, tipping his head at Scarlett, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping her tea.

“Likewise, Mr. Weasley,” She said with a smirk before turning to look at Rose. “You be good Rose,” She said, her other brow rising for a short moment.

Rose breathed through her nose. “Let’s go before I have to strangle all of you.”

They apparated to Bodmin Moor in Cornwall, close to the Magpies Quidditch area, and continued to walk the rest of the way towards their main arena. Rose knew it hadn’t always been Magpies’ home stadium, as the Quidditch stadiums erected over Britain and Ireland were previously used by many teams, but after years and years of debating with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, the League was finally granted a home stadium and training area for each team.

“Ron! Rosie! Hugo!” Rose’s aunt yelled next to a long building close to the main stadium. She was talking with James, who was already in his black and white Quidditch gear. There was a hubbub of excited conversation from over two hundred people behind them.

“Aunt Ginny!” Rose said as soon as they reached her and James. Rose hugged her aunt, and then stepped back to eye her more closely, while both Hugo and her father clasped hands with James.

Ginny looked a bit different than she had been the last time Rose had seen her – which was at least a month ago. Her hair seemed brighter, and overall, she seemed happier. “You look good,” Rose said with a smile.

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. “Was going to say the same thing about you. Love the hair,” She said, tugging one perfectly bouncy curl that hung against Rose’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Rose shrugged. “Sure. And you? How’s uncle Harry?” She asked, not having seen him for several months. Rose reckoned the last time she had seen him must’ve been sometime during the summer when she had spent a lot of time with Lily at her house.

Ginny’s mouth tightened. Rose frowned and wondered if she had said the wrong thing, but didn’t have time to say anything more, as her father pressed his hand against Ginny’s shoulder. “Hey sis. Should we find seats?”

James nodded at Rose before making his excuses. The match wasn’t going to start until thirty minutes, and Rose wasn’t sure if James’s quick disappearance was because it was still too uncomfortable for him to hang out with her, or if he merely had to prepare for the game. She didn’t really worry about it either. She knew things would eventually go back to normal between them.

Ginny hugged Hugo, telling him how she was sure he was growing taller every time she saw him – which apparently was something adults said to kids, as it was the exact same thing Rose told to Jasmine every time she saw her.

Hugo shook his head in mild exasperation, nodding his head at the stands. “Mind if we sit with some of my friends?”

Rose looked at the direction and saw some of James’s and Hugo’s friends at the stands near them, waving at them.

Their father shrugged. “Sure. You kids go ahead, I’ll have to catch up with my little sister before we’ll cram ourselves into the noise.”

Ginny huffed at him, but nodded at Rose and Hugo. “Go ahead,” She said, and as Rose and Hugo turned to walk towards the stands, she quipped “Save us seats!”

“Okay…what was _that_ about?” Rose asked from Hugo when they were out of earshot of their father and aunt. “I asked about uncle Harry, and she nearly bolted!”

Hugo gave her an unimpressed look.

“What? What?” Rose asked quickly, annoyed that her brother seemingly knew more about it than Rose did. She didn’t even know how it was possible, seeing as Hugo spent all his time at the hospital.

Hugo let out a sigh, and glanced around them. “They’re having a rough time, ‘s all.”

Rose gave her brother an incredulous frown. “What does that mean?” She asked as they started to walk up the stairs to the stand.

“Nothing, Rose. Forget it. Just don’t – don’t bring him up.”

Rose huffed. “Why the bloody hell I shouldn’t?” She felt frustrated. Obviously, there was something Rose ought to have known, but apparently, only Hugo had been told about whatever it was. “Why is it always _you_ who gets told every sordid detail, but no one trusts me enough to –”

Hugo whirled around so fast, that Rose nearly collided into him. “Fuck, Rose, stop it! He’s acting mental, and it’s driving everyone up the walls!” Hugo whispered angrily, and then cursed under his breath as a group of wizards walked past them, giving them long stares.

“W-What?” Rose asked shakily. “Why didn’t I know about any of it?”

Hugo pulled her to walk up the stairs with him. “Al told me. And I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. So keep your bloody mouth shut.”

Rose felt affronted, but swallowed her irritation and merely nodded at her brother. There was no use to continue the discussion there, in the middle of several people. They reached the top of the stairs and walked ahead towards the seats.

So, her uncle had some… mental issues? Merlin, she needed to talk with her mother. Her mum would surely know what was going on and would explain it to Rose. However, a small doubting voice inside her head started to question her thoughts: would her mother explain it to her, if she hadn’t said anything until now?

Rose’s mind was so focused on her uncle and aunt – the latter of whom obviously had been upset by Rose’s words – that she didn’t notice the bloke standing in front of her blocking her way, until she walked right at him.

“Ooof!” She wheezed, falling right to her bum.

“Shit. Fuck. Sorry, Rose,” Nick said hastily, taking Rose’s arm and pulling her gently back up. “I thought you saw me…” He said with a grimace.

Everyone behind him was watching them from their seats. Rose noted that some of the guys were grinning slyly at their direction.

Rose felt her neck heating up with embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t.” She said lamely, and quickly continued as she saw the frown deepening between Nick’s brows. “Thanks, though. For helping me.”

Nick smiled, looking a bit relieved. Like Rose, Nick too was wearing Magpies colours. He was dressed in dark grey jeans and white shirt with the Magpies logo, paired with a black overshirt. “How are you?” He asked, while guiding her towards the benches, his fingers still lightly grazing her arm.

“I’m – I’m fine. Same old,” She said with a shrug, looking around them as they sat side by side at the end of the first row.

Hugo and some of his school friends were sitting further down the same bench, leaving out the rest of the seats free, while James’s friends – Nick’s friends, Rose assumed – sat on the bench two rows up. Rose wondered if it was where Nick had been sitting as well.

“So, how’s the coffee shop treating you?” He asked lightly, looking at Rose curiously.

Rose thought he actually seemed interested to hear how she was doing, instead of making small talk and being disinterested about her answer.

“Oh. It’s okay, I suppose. Busy in the mornings, boring as hell during noon,” she said and was a bit distracted by the grin on Nick’s face.

“And you? Still shuffling around papers in your father’s office?” She asked with a smirk, knowing it wasn’t like that. Nick’s father was a solicitor, and he owned a small company that offered legal services to the wizarding population. The last time they had had a good conversation about the topic – a year ago, before Rose had gone utterly legless – Nick had been thinking on taking up an apprenticeship under his father’s guidance, and becoming a solicitor himself to ease his father’s workload and eventually take over the company when his father would retire.

Nick laughed. “Something like that. I actually started my apprenticeship a few months back.”

“Brilliant,” Rose said with a smile. “Now I know who to call when I’m in legal trouble.”

Nick grinned. “Oh? And what kind of trouble would that be?”

Rose gave him a thoughtful look. “Well, you never know. I mean, I do have these urges to throttle people at times,” She said nonchalantly. “Mainly my relatives.”

“Dunno if the qualification to deal with conveyancing or drawing up of wills would help you with that,” Nick said with amusement.

“What a disappointment.” Rose said with a mock-disenchantment, before grinning at him. “You should reconsider. There are a lot of angry minds waiting to do crime.”

“ – Nick, stop chatting up Weasley – she’ll never agree!” One of Nick’s friends yelled from one of the rows behind them.

Nick looked pained, but didn’t look at his friends. “Sorry.” He said to Rose, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

“Agree to what?” Rose asked, torn between feeling curious and reserved.

Nick smiled at her a bit sheepishly. “Going out with me?”

Rose was a bit taken aback by his straightforwardness, and stared at him quietly for a moment.

“Look, Rose. You don’t have to. It was just something I –”

“Okay.” Rose said, the word coming out of her mouth in a rush. She realised only a moment later what she had said.

Nick grinned widely, and Rose too could feel the corners of her mouth curving upwards. Merlin forbid, she had agreed to go on a date with _Nick_. She was never hearing the end of it from Scarlett, Rose was certain of it.

Rose didn’t know what had compelled her to agree with him without any further thought. Perhaps it was the fact that she had been on so many unsuccessful dates that she was desperate to agree when the offer came from a decent person? She had always been in friendly terms with him, was somewhat familiar with him, and – well, she had already snogged him once. And what she remembered of it, definitely wasn’t undesirable. And after that particular occurrence, it seemed like the next time she had seen him – which was at Albus’s party – it felt like there was still something… unresolved between them.

Nick ran a hand through his hair. “Brilliant. Can I call you?” He asked, lifting his brows a bit.

Rose swallowed, forcing away all the mixed thoughts swirling in her head. “That would be lovely.” She said and smiled at him, feeling how her cheeks tinged with red.

Nick licked his lips, and Rose was momentarily distracted, as her eyes dropped to stare at them. She suddenly remembered their kiss over a year ago, and felt curious – would his lips still feel like she remembered? Would he still guide them against Rose’s as effortlessly as he had then?

“…Um. Rose? Your number?”

She blinked. “Right.” She said, scolding herself for letting her focus waver. “Of course.” She said and took Nick’s phone which he had been offering to her.

Nick smirked, evidently having noticed Rose’s wandering eye, but said nothing. Rose quickly added a contact and typed her number under it, before giving the phone back to him.

“Thanks,” Nick said with another smile, making the blush deepen on Rose’s face. “You look nice, by the way.”

Rose pressed her lips together, trying to force the colour on her face to resume its normal tone. “Thank you. You too.”

She was glad the game was about to start, and that everyone around them – including Hugo and his friends, as well as Nick’s friends – was focusing on something else than her and Nick.

“I should… go back to my seat,” Nick said, nodding his head at his friends, who were calling him to come back. “Unless – you want to join me?”

Rose shook her head slightly. “Oh. No. Sorry. My dad’s about to head up and I promised I’d sit with him,” she said with an apologetic look, even though she was somewhat glad she didn’t have to sit with a group of moronically smirking blokes.

Nick grinned. “No worries. I’ll call you,” He said and gave her an intent look, before standing up. “Enjoy the match.”

Rose nodded at him. “You too.”

She looked at him as he left, and saw him passing her father and aunt Ginny on the way up.

Her father had somehow managed to change into his orange Chudley Cannons jumper that clashed horribly with his ginger hair. Rose wanted to roll her eyes at him – the Cannons were not even playing that day, and he still showed his support for the unfortunate team. She noticed that nearly everyone in their stand was wearing black and white – the Magpies colours. There were some stands around the pitch which were filled with people wearing pale blue and silver, but mostly it was black and white everywhere. It was, after all, Magpies’ home game.

“Good seats, Rosie!” Her father said as he sat down next to Hugo, leaving the place next to Rose free for Ginny.

Rose saw Hugo watching her with a curious look, evidently having heard her discussion with Nick, and decided to ignore him. She was going on a date with Nick. Her stomach squirmed slightly in anticipation.

“You okay, Rosie?” Ginny asked, looking like her normal easy-going self again.

Rose smiled. “Sure. You think the Arrows will be any match for Magpies?”

The Magpies were playing their eleventh game since the league had started in the beginning of September, and it was their first time against The Appleby Arrows. James’s team had won every match until now, and Rose was certain that their streak would continue – they were _very_ good.

Ginny blew a raspberry. “Not a chance.” She said and then sniggered with Rose.

Rose’s father shushed them as the commentator started to announce the players from both teams. When it came to James’s turn, everyone in their stand started to yell and whoop. Rose could see the small grin on James’s face as the man zoomed past them, taking his position with the two other Chasers.

The game went on fast – players were zooming and zigzagging so rapidly in every direction that at times Rose had difficulties to follow who was in the possession of the Quaffle.

_‘…What an amazing Bludger Backbeat from Davies!’_ The commentator yelled, when the Magpies Beater sent a Bludger with a back-hand swing to behind him, causing the opposite side to drop the Quaffle.

_‘Aaand Magpies are in possession – going from Potter to Wright, to Harris, and – and Arrows Chaser catches the Quaffle in front of Potter!”_

_“Arrows’ Taylor and Smith move with precision, something close to Formation Looping – aaand Smith SCORES! Arrows lead with ten to zero!”_

“Fucking hell.” Ginny grumbled next to Rose, her words drowning into the loud booing sounds around the Quidditch field.

The Magpies scored three goals in the next twenty minutes, followed by two goals by the Arrows during the next thirty minutes. Rose saw both Seekers flying over and amongst the rest of their teams, eyes trained into the field around them, trying to detect a glimpse of the Snitch.

When the game had been going on for an hour and a half, the Magpies were leading seventy to sixty, which wasn’t much – and even though Rose hadn’t been at James’s games recently, she knew something was off in his game. She glanced at her aunt, who looked worried.

“What is it?” Rose asked, nodding at the field.

Ginny shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the pitch for a moment. “It’s James. He’s not in his best… Something’s distracting him.”

Rose nodded, trusting her aunt’s opinion. She knew that even though Ginny co-coached the Harpies, the woman never missed any of James’s games – and was probably very attuned to James’s playing tactics.

There was an uproar, and both Rose and Ginny whirled back to look at the game.

_‘And would you look at that! Arrows’ Smith snags the Quaffle from the pass between Magpies’ Wright and Potter – and this is the second time their Porskoff Ploy fails! Lads – better luck next time! And Smith SCORES!’_

Rose could see James and his teammate – one of the Chasers – yelling at each other.

_‘Looks like Magpies Chasers are trading some carefully selected words – and – IT’S THE SNITCH, EVERYONE! Arrows’ LeBlanc catches the Snitch! The Appleby Arrows win!’_

There was a stunned silence, and only a small part of the crowd was cheering – the one wearing the blue and silver colours.

Then there was a lot of shouting, a lot of booing, and screams of displeasure.

The Arrows were cheering, landing in a great heap on the grass, followed by a weary and disappointed looking Magpies team.

“Merlin,” Ginny gasped next to Rose, standing up and leaning against the railing. Rose followed her and she too watched as James shouted something at the other Chaser as they flew towards the edge of the pitch, looking enraged.

“Blimey.” Rose’s father grunted.

Blimey, indeed, Rose thought, as she watched how James threw his broom aside the moment he landed and marched towards the building behind the stands.

Rose wondered what in the Merlin was going on with James, and if it could have anything to do with what had happened with Scarlett the previous weekend. Whatever it was, she hoped he would be able to solve it.

As soon as the game ended, Hugo disappeared back to St Mungo’s, explaining to their father that he was needed when someone had called in sick, and that they were already short of staff. He promised to meet Rose at their mother’s place the next day, and accompany her to their father’s in the afternoon, which eased a bit of the disappointment on their father’s expression.

* * *

When Rose got home later that evening, after stopping by at Diagon for a couple of drinks with her father and aunt – only butterbeer for Rose, since her father thought she was still his innocent little child – Hugo’s owl India was waiting for her at the windowsill in the kitchen.

“Scar?” Rose called to the silent apartment, before moving to open the window. India hopped on her arm and gave her the letter. The owl pecked her fingers softly, and then flew off from the open window.

It was a bit odd that Hugo always preferred sending India, even though he too had a phone and they both lived in muggle buildings that were not attached to the floo network. Rose knew that there was even a small zone in the hospital that was made for muggleborn witches and wizards – or anyone basically who had muggle relatives and couldn’t receive owls – where phones worked adequately. Rose thought that Hugo preferring to send letters over texting was because he was attached to India, especially after Rose had given the owl to him after she had graduated. Even though India had been a gift for Rose from their parents, both Hugo and Rose had regarded the owl as their familial throughout Hogwarts.

She opened the letter and sniggered after reading it.

_Hey sis. So, apparently mum’s bringing her BOYFRIEND tomorrow to lunch. Any idea if I need to practice my offensive spells? Or defensive, seeing we’ll go to dad’s afterwards?_

_-H_

It was about time their mother was officially dating someone, Rose thought with a smile. The little she had seen the week before, Bruce had seemed like a decent man, and their mother had been positively glowing – something Rose hadn’t seen in a long time. Sure, Bruce was a muggle, which brought its own set of problems, but if anyone would be able to figure it out, it was Hermione Granger.

Rose dug her phone from the pocket of her jeans. She had a couple of unread messages. One of them was from Scarlett, who had texted to inform Rose that she had gone to her parents for the night and that she would be back on Sunday afternoon.

The other one was from Nick. Rose’s insides jumped slightly as she saw his name on the screen. She quickly opened the message.

**_What does your next Saturday look like?  
-Nick_ **

Rose pressed her lips together to stifle a huge grin, even though she was alone in the flat and no one would see if she smiled like a loon. She quickly typed her response.

**_Free as a bird.  
-Rose_ **

Rose stared at the screen, tapping her foot against the floor as she stood in the kitchen, still dressed in her overcoat while she waited for Nick to reply to her. She was hopeless, she knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. Then, a moment later his reply came through.

**_Brill. I’ll pick you up at…say eight?_ **

Rose licked her lips and frowned at the phone. Did Nick know where she lived? The answer to her thoughts came as Nick sent another message.

**_…if you’ll tell me where. :)_ **

She smiled and sent her address to him, already excited even though their date was a week away.


	9. Albus

**Chapter 9: Albus**

**Sunday, 23 November, 2025**

Albus woke up warm and comfortable in his bed. He was also very naked, and there was another body pressed against his side. He quickly assessed the situation: he had been out in the pub last night with Chase. They hadn't drunk much, which explained his nearly non-existent hangover. Chase had pulled – he had been courteous enough to inform Albus when he was leaving with a woman who had looked old enough to be his mother. Albus had soon met her – the girl who was supposedly sleeping next to him. Their meeting had led to sex – not necessarily mind-blowing, but Albus wasn't complaining. He was wondrously exhausted by the activities from last night, but as Albus thought about what he would face next, he felt resigned.

The situation wasn't frequent, but since Albus didn't really date and he _was_ a bloke – it had happened enough times for him to be aware of how undesirable the next morning could be.

He steeled himself for what needed to happen next, and opened his eyes. She was still sleeping. Maria, he recalled. She had dark blonde hair and she had a quite nice, willowy body. Her skin was soft: her cheek rested against his upper arm, and her leg was thrown over Albus's, her thigh resting against his. The blanket covered the lower half of their bodies, but he did get a quite nice view of her long back.

A soft humming sound came from the back of her throat, and then she was blinking, and stretching her body.

"Good morning," She said with a sleepy voice. She bit her lip and gave Albus a rather sheepish look. "…Albus, right?"

Albus gave her a lazy smile. "Yeah. Maria, right?"

She smiled. Albus thought she looked quite beautiful, as the smile went up to her blue eyes.

Albus stretched a bit and then cleared his throat. "Look, I have to go to work today – one of the staff is sick and, yeah…" He said with a shrug, and he wasn't even lying to her, even if he was using it as an excuse to make her leave. His eyes flickered to the timepiece on his wall. It was ten in the morning.

Albus was one of the two sports journalists at the Prophet, and with his colleague, Mitch, they covered the sports events – Quidditch, basically, since there weren't really other sports in the wizarding world that were worthy of mention – and produced written reports on those events for the next day's paper.

The Quidditch League season 2025-2026 consisted of twenty-six game weeks, and altogether one hundred and eighty-two games were played during it. There were seven games each game week, as all the fourteen teams played twice against each of the teams.

Albus reported the matches played on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, while Mitch covered the ones played during the weekend. Monday and Tuesday matches were merely mentioned in their weekly summary, as the lowest ranked teams played their games during those days. However, Mitch had flooed in sick after the game the previous day, and their editor had asked if Albus was able to cover it. Albus had warily agreed, explaining his boss that he had a thing on Sunday evening, which he simply wasn't able to miss. Even though the Holyhead Harpies – who would face the Kenmare Kestrels – were known to be fast and brutal, both Albus and his boss knew that there was always a possibility that the match would take several hours, or in the worst case: the whole day.

The game would start at noon, so Albus knew he wasn't in a hurry, but he wanted to have breakfast in silence before he had to leave to the Denbigh Moors in Wales, where most of the Harpies' games were played.

"Oh?" Maria asked, while pulling the covers upwards to cover her body, her eyes moving searchingly over Albus's. "What do you do?" She asked kindly.

"I'm an accountant." He said, knowing that literally _no one_ ever asked more questions after that. He had learned that little detail the hard way, after telling a muggle that he was a journalist – and proceeding to make an utter fool of himself when he had been asked questions about journalism…in the muggle world. Albus had tried to learn about his field on the muggle side afterwards, but it was all very confusing. He had quickly decided to create a cover-job for himself, and as one of his co-workers had told him that no one was interested about an accountant's work, Albus had known what his would be.

"It's, uh, a busy time for us, the end of the year…" He said with a shrug and then rolled off the bed.

Maria nodded absently. "Yeah, I know… One of my friends is an accountant as well," She said and stood up to sit on the bed, watching as Albus grabbed a pair of boxers from the floor and pulled them on.

Albus looked at her, and panicked a bit. She didn't look like she was going to move an inch. Was she under the assumption that Albus would be okay for her to stay in his bed – and in his home – while he was at work? "Um. Do you want to – "

"I'd love to," She said with a sweet smile, settling back against the pillows.

_Fuck,_ Albus thought. What the hell did she think he was asking?

"…Do you want breakfast?" Albus asked quickly, hoping that she would take the hint that it wasn't really okay for her to stay there.

Maria blushed and gave him a nod. "Sure. Let me…um…find my clothes first," She said, sitting up again and looking over the floor.

"Yeah, okay. It's, uh, two floors down." Albus said and then grabbed a t-shirt from the armchair close to the door. "I'll let you get dressed," he murmured and left the room in a hurry.

He trudged down the stairs, deciding that he would be a polite host and offer her breakfast and _then_ kick her out. Politely. He was so focused on the upcoming and unpleasant conversation, that he didn't realise at first that someone was already in the kitchen, making breakfast.

"Hello, love," Emma said sweetly.

Albus blinked, stopping in the middle of the room. "You're home." He said, lifting his brows in surprise. He cleared his throat and walked to the cupboards to grab a couple of cups.

Emma leaned against the counter next to the stove, where she was in the middle of making a heap of pancakes. "Oh, yes," she said slyly, watching Albus with amusement in her eyes. "Is there someone special you're getting coffee for on this lovely Sunday morning, dear?"

Albus rolled his eyes at her. Emma hadn't obviously stayed the night, as she was already dressed for the day, wearing a flimsy top, tight jeans and a long cardigan. Albus was also certain he would've heard if she had come home during last night – or at least, she would've already commented about his not so quiet activities during the previous night. "She's a Muggle. Keep your wand away." He grunted, and poured the coffee Emma had made into two cups.

Emma snorted, right as the door to the kitchen opened.

Maria stepped inside the room, looking warily at Albus and Emma. "Um. Albus?"

Emma whirled around to meet her gaze. "Hello. I'm Emma. Albus's fiancée," She said with a wide smile. "So nice to meet you – I'm sure Albus took a _good_ care of you last night."

Maria gaped at them both, while Albus groaned inwardly. "Emma, please," He said stiffly. He then turned to look at Maria, grimacing at the expression of confusion and hurt on her face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know she would be here," He said apologetically.

It wasn't like he had planned it, and while he had meant to send Maria on her way and never call her back, he hadn't meant to hurt her, and he definitely hadn't wanted her to meet Emma.

Maria looked positively stunned. "Your – your –" She breathed, and then tugged at her thin and very short dress down a bit.

"Pancakes?" Emma asked cheerfully, and it seemed to be too much for Maria, who shook her head, and practically ran from the kitchen.

"You had to do that?" Albus asked disdainfully from Emma.

Emma blew a raspberry at him. "As if you weren't just going to ditch her."

Albus walked to the door, gritting his teeth. "…And I haven't asked your hand yet, so I'd advise you to not hold your breath!" He said thinly, before slamming the door behind him.

"May I remind you where we're going today for dinner?!" Emma's muffled voice carried to the hallway.

Albus let out a long sigh. Of bloody course he knew. He shook his head and ran up the stairs to the first floor, where he knew Maria had exited from.

He reached the front door, wrenched it open and received a cold blow of wind against his rather underdressed frame. He slipped on his boots and stepped to the front yard.

Maria had walked through the front gate and had taken a right, but she was still close to the house.

"Maria!" Albus called, quickly making his way to the gate. Maria stopped in place, and looked at Albus.

"Where's the nearest station?" She asked bluntly, her eyes lingering on Albus's bare legs.

She was wearing a thick coat, which made Albus shiver in cold.

"Swiss Cottage. On the left," Albus said carefully. "Maria I'm sorry," Albus said as she turned towards the station. "I didn't know she'd be home."

Maria stood still. "Is she your – your fiancée?" She asked quietly, not looking at Albus.

Albus sighed. "No. She's not."

Maria nodded slowly, more to herself than to Albus. "Then what is she?" She asked harshly.

Albus rubbed his neck and met her steely gaze. "She's complicated."

Maria blinked rapidly, evidently processing his words. She looked disappointed, and gave him a sad smile. And Albus couldn't stop thinking how beautiful she was, and how he suddenly didn't want her to leave.

He wondered if he had given her a different answer – if he had lied, and told her Emma was nothing but a roommate to him – would she have followed him back inside? Would she have stayed?

What then?

Maria looked away, shaking her head slightly, before glancing at him again. "Goodbye, Albus," she said softly.

Albus watched her leave, and let out a deep breath. He was relieved, but at the same time… he felt uncomfortable. He didn't have any problem receiving enraged insults, but this – the disappointment and the crushed hope was something that always left him feeling restless. And every time it happened, it made him swear not to do it again. To steer clear from girls in general.

He wasn't going to date anyone, he knew that much. He had tried a couple of times during Hogwarts and after graduation, but it always somehow dried away. Albus didn't want to commit to anyone, and he had his arrangement with Emma, which was always going to be a problem for someone, even if he tried to explain it as well as he could. He was happy with his decision _not_ to date anyone, but at the same time, he couldn't understand why it was so hard to find someone like him – someone who didn't want to commit to him either, but wanted to occasionally spend time with him, mainly naked and tangled in his sheets?

Albus realised that he was still standing at his front gate in his boxers and t-shirt as the old lady from three houses down walked by with her dog and gave him a rather nasty look.

Albus cringed, and quickly went back inside. When he returned to the kitchen, Emma had already set the small round table they used for breakfast, including the two cups of coffee Albus had filled earlier. She was standing next to the table, looking remorseful.

"Sorry, Al. Didn't mean to be a bitch." She said quietly, a deep frown between her brows.

Albus trailed his fingers through his hair, and then sighed. "Yeah, 's okay," he muttered, and then walked into Emma's outstretched arms.

She pulled her into a warm embrace.

"You smell like hetero sex."

Albus grinned, pressing himself more firmly against her.

"If you get off on this, I swear I'll hex you," Emma said tightly, before pushing him firmly away.

Albus sniggered. "You're the one cockblocking me – the least you could do is help a bloke out," Albus said simply and took his seat at the table.

"Ugh," Emma said with a sneer. "You know I despise penises."

Albus hummed, sipping his coffee. "Did I mention I missed you?"

Emma started to wolf down her pancakes. "Did I mention my dad expects for you to ask him my hand?"

Albus pursed his lips and frowned at the table. "Emma…"

Emma sighed. "I'll figure something out."

Albus nodded slowly, his eyes moving over her features. He ate his pancakes in silence, wondering how many times they would meet Emma's parents before they didn't accept Emma's and Albus's explanations of not settling down? Her father was a pureblood, like half of Albus's family – and even if Albus's own family couldn't care less who he dated or how long it was appropriate to date before an engagement, it wasn't like that with Emma's parents. Both Albus and Emma knew that their arrangement wouldn't last forever. Her father would put a stop to it one day.

"So… who was she? Where did you meet?" Emma asked, twiddling with the handle of her cup.

Albus pushed his plate away and shrugged. "Just someone I met in a pub in Paddington."

Emma nodded, "You were with Chase?"

Albus grunted in reply.

"He texted me in the morning – ordered me to check upon you," She said with a smirk. "He was worried about you and felt bad for leaving you alone," Emma said lightly. "You didn't reply to his texts."

Albus sniffed. "As if I could get my phone to work in this place." It was true – their house was one of the few ones Albus knew – besides Burrow and Malfoy Manor – where muggle technology wasn't working properly. Even at his parents' house he managed to make phone calls, and the place was heavily warded after the incident few months back.

Emma gave him an agreeing noise. "Figured as much. So, when Amanda left for work, I came back to check on you."

"And how is she?" Albus asked, drinking the last of his coffee.

Emma smiled. "Brilliant. She's really enjoying her new position at Gringotts. We should have dinner together," She said, and Albus nodded.

"Yeah, sounds great." He didn't see Amanda as often as Emma, but whenever they got together, Albus always enjoyed her company. Amanda worked long days at Gringotts, and Albus was glad that she had finally received the promotion she deserved.

Emma's smile faded a bit as her eyes moved over Albus's face.

He knew what she was about to say.

"Em – please…"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Indulge me."

Albus sighed. "Fine, whatever."

"Why don't you try dating? It could be different? You might've not met the right person yet…" Emma said softly. "And you hate this, being casual, you know you do – you always say you'll never do it again, and then two weeks later, we're having this same conversation." Emma cringed and continued with a pained look, "And I realise I haven't really been helping – like for instance, just now…"

Albus licked his lips, and stared at the table. He did hate casual sex, but mostly the way it ended was what bothered him: the mix of disappointment and discomfort.

"I've been thinking…" Emma said, looking thoughtful. "This," she said, gesturing between them "…Is not really a fair solution for you –" And quickly continued as Albus arched an incredulous brow at her, " – I don't mean the house, but how our agreement makes it hard for you to settle down with anyone."

Albus shook his head, opening his mouth to argue.

"You know I'm right, Al," Emma said primly. "Even if you wouldn't want to date anyone, it would be difficult to even try, as long as we keep our façade up."

"I don't want it to end." Albus said simply. "I love the place – and I don't mind your parents."

Emma sighed, putting her cup down at the table. "I know. But… One day, I'll want to come out. I want my parents to know about Amanda, and even though I know they wouldn't accept me – not to even mention, her – I'm tired of lying to them."

Albus's stomach dropped. He knew the day would come eventually, but hearing that it would happen, was different than knowing it would happen sometime in the far future. "All right. When are you planning to do this?" He asked heavily.

"I'm not saying right now, but… perhaps during the next year? I'm not leaving you without a home, Al – and I definitely want to save some money of my own since I'm rather sure I'll be disinherited," She said sullenly.

Albus took her hand in his. "Hey. I'll be fine. You know I have more than enough money – so don't worry about that."

Emma smiled, squeezing Albus's fingers. "Let's not think about it now, okay?" She asked.

Albus nodded, even though he _was_ still thinking about it, naturally. He would lose his home – which he kind of adored – but it wouldn't be the end of the world. He had some money, and his parents would always help him out. It would suck, but he would be fine.

"How's work? How did Chase do with the interview?" Emma asked with a smirk.

They both worked for the Prophet, but rarely worked with the same issues. Emma was a journalist in the Business and Economy section while Albus worked in the Sports section. Chase, who did interviews for the Entertainment section – which was under the same department as Sports – had met with a young singer the previous Friday. Albus's friend had been bouncing off the walls the whole week after their boss had asked him to do the piece. Chase was a big fan, along with half of the wizarding population: the girl – _Strawberry Moon_ – had dominated all three wireless stations in the wizarding Britain for the last five months, and her reign wasn't coming to an end anytime soon.

Albus laughed. "Managed not to sing an aria in her honour," Albus said and shrugged. "It went fine."

They sniggered.

* * *

Later that evening they were standing in front of Emma's parents' Villa, and Albus tried to empty his mind and not think about the game or what his mother had said to him afterwards – or even what the next hours would most likely entail.

The game had been a fast one: the Harpies had won the match three hundred and thirty to zero, managing to make eighteen goals and catch the Snitch in less than an hour. Albus had barely resisted the urge to text James about the result just to mess with him. The Harpies and the Magpies had been the two most highest ranking teams for several years, but Albus wasn't sure if Magpies had ever had such a goal streak in such a short time.

Afterwards, Albus had managed to chat a bit with his mother, who had been watching the game. They had talked a bit about work – off the record, naturally – and then Albus's mother had told him that his father had decided to see a Mind Healer, which had naturally been big news. And while Albus's mind had been reeling over that bit of information, she had told him that his aunt Hermione was worried about Hugo – who apparently spent more time at the hospital than he did at home – and had asked if Albus had talked to him recently. He hadn't, even though Hugo was probably the closest relative Albus had, and they used to talk or see each other several times a week. But now, the last time they had talked, had been on Albus's birthday.

And as for the evening at Emma's parents' – well, Albus knew exactly what to expect of it.

"Relax," Emma whispered, and Albus thought it was easy for her to say, when she wouldn't be the one spending hours after dinner locked up in her father's study, under the third degree.

The door opened, and Emma's family house elf stood in front of them.

"Missy Emma!" Nilly squealed in joy.

Emma laughed, and bent down to hug the elf.

"Mister Albus!" Nilly said with a displeased voice, its eyes narrowing slightly. "Still stringing Miss along, I see."

Albus lifted his brows and shook his head. "Anything to wind you up, Nilly," he said lightly.

The elf didn't seem happy by Albus's statement, and only held the door for Emma, letting it bang against Albus's ankles as he walked inside. Albus huffed, and Emma glanced back to give him a reprimanding look, that told him he ought to stop pissing off her elf.

"Darling!" Emma's mother, Mrs Macmillan said with a delighted voice as she descended the stairs to the grand hallway.

Emma walked up to her and after letting her mother to kiss her on both of her cheeks, she pulled her mother into a tight embrace.

"It feels like months have gone since I've last seen you," Mrs Macmillan said to her, and then looked at Albus. "You are as handsome as ever, Albus. Lovely to see you."

Albus smiled. "Thank you, Mrs Macmillan. And likewise."

"Where's my little girl?" Emma's father's voice carried from the drawing room next to the hall. He walked through the open doors and smiled widely at his daughter.

He hugged Emma and then shook hands with Albus, as pompously as usual – and Albus immediately saw the glint in Emma's father's eyes, which meant that he was about to have a serious discussion with Albus later that night.

Albus pressed his teeth together and smiled politely as he followed the group to the formal dining room. Nilly had put up its best effort again, both with the setting and the meal. They sat down: Emma's parents at both ends of the table, while he and Emma sat next to each other on one side.

"So – Albus," Mr Macmillan started after taking his first sip of wine. "How is the paper doing?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Dad… we both work there…"

Mr Macmillan huffed. "I'm aware, darling, and I have understood that you work for different departments?"

"Indeed," Albus said. "I'm at Sports while Emma is at Business and Economy." He didn't miss the smug look on Emma's father's face when he mentioned Emma's department.

It had never been said aloud, at least not to Albus's face, but he was fairly certain Mr Macmillan thought Albus's job – and especially his department – was beneath Emma's. It was somewhat amusing to Albus, since it was widely known that the sports section in the Prophet was what brought most of the money in, and it was both sports and entertainment that most of their subscribers were after, according to their surveys from the past five years.

"We're kept busy by the league, as well as the Quidditch World Cup – like many others. I will be travelling to France next summer to report the games onsite." Albus said.

Mr Macmillan nodded slowly, while watching Albus closely. "And what about Emma?"

"Dad…" Emma said with a warning in her tone.

Mrs Macmillan cleared her throat. "Shall we have dinner?" She asked, but didn't wait for an answer before she nodded at Nilly.

The elf snapped its long fingers and delicious whiffs of garlic filled the room. Four small bowls of garlic soup had appeared on the table in front of them. Albus followed Emma's parents' example and started to eat. While he wasn't exactly beside himself with joy whenever Emma asked him to accompany her to meet her parents, he didn't have anything against the enjoyable meal Nilly prepared every time.

"When will you travel to France, Albus?" Mr Macmillan asked after he had finished his soup and emptied his glass of wine.

Albus swallowed and cleared his throat. "The first round starts in the beginning of June, so… probably a couple of days before that."

"And how long will you be there?" Mr Macmillan asked, pouring himself another drink, while his eyes moved over Albus's features.

Albus tried not to twitch under his stare. "The tournament final is at the end of July. I'll be staying until that."

Mr Macmillan's eyes narrowed slightly as he contemplated Albus's words.

"Oh – isn't your brother playing for the English team?" Mrs Macmillan asked kindly, lifting her brows at Albus.

Albus wasn't looking at Emma's father's direction, but he didn't miss the scoff-like sound.

"Yes." Albus said simply. "He's one of the Chasers."

Mrs Macmillan smiled. "How exciting."

Mr Macmillan let out a grunt of disapproval. "Your brother was awfully lot in the papers during the summer. And again, two weeks ago…"

Albus wanted to roll his eyes at the man. It wasn't like James had been the _only_ Quidditch player to make the headlines last summer. The wizarding world had only a few celebrities, who were mostly Quidditch players. Sometimes, their every move was followed. Luckily, Albus and Chase were both able to filter out the most obnoxious and the most questionable stories. The problem was, however, that the Prophet wasn't the only media outlet in the wizarding world – they had wireless stations that broadcasted news, as well as other papers and magazines.

"I'd say he ought to straighten himself up a bit and focus on his game and not chase after skirts…"

Albus pressed his lips together and stared at his glass.

"Leave it, dad – you know that sometimes the papers don't have the whole story and simply make up half of it! I mean, didn't it happen when you and Al's father were at Hogwarts?"

Emma's father pursed his lips at his daughter. "You're saying don't trust the paper you're working for?"

Emma sighed. "Dad," she said pointedly. "Let's just enjoy our time together, okay?"

Mr Macmillan gave her a tight smile and nodded. Albus's brother wasn't mentioned again, and they continued to the main course.

* * *

"How was it?" Emma asked as soon as they had apparated into the shadows in the narrow pathway between their house and their neighbours'.

Albus shook his head and walked towards their backyard. "As one would expect – your old man wanted to know why we're not engaged yet, and when I am planning to ask for your hand."

Emma groaned exhaustedly. They stepped inside the house, and Emma went towards the kitchen counter, flicking her wand at the teapot.

"Tea?"

Albus was tired, both physically and emotionally. But they always talked after coming back from Emma's parents, and formed a plan for the future if they saw it necessary. And Albus thought it was necessary now, after what Emma's father had said to him.

"Yeah, sure." He said and slumped down on the chair at the small round table. He put his elbows against the table and rubbed his face with his hands.

"He's getting impatient," Albus muttered, lowering his hands.

Emma frowned at him, but said nothing as she brought two cups of tea to the table. "Mum said he'd been talking about – about making a contract with your father…"

Albus snorted. First of all, Albus's father knew nothing about his life and 'relationship' with Emma, and second, Albus was rather certain his father thought Mr Macmillan was a pompous prat. And third, even if Albus's father was trying to get better, it was going to be a slow process – and Albus was certain he didn't have the strength to deal with anything else than that.

"Good luck with that," Albus grunted, sipping his tea.

Emma gave him a searching look. "How is your father doing?"

Albus shook his head. "I don't have the energy to talk about my father, Em. No offence."

Emma let out a noncommittal sound. "So – my father then?" She asked with a grimace.

Albus smiled wearily. "He mentioned the contract. I didn't really say much. He went on and on about how it was proper to ask for your hand already, so that it wouldn't look that I was stringing you along – especially, since I am a somewhat of a celebrity myself, apparently." Albus said and lifted his brows and gave her a mock shocked look.

Emma laughed. "You? Your brother perhaps, but if I was you, I wouldn't think too much of myself," she said sardonically.

Albus smirked. "Yes – he did mention James as well."

The amusement vanished from her face. "He didn't. I told him not to!"

Albus shrugged, and briefly wondered if Emma had had a conversation with her parents before the dinner, and told them which topics were off the table. Evidently, her father hadn't taken her request to heart.

"What did he say?"

Albus sighed. What had Mr Macmillan said, exactly? Oh, yes. That however talented Albus's brother was, he had a bad reputation, and it was already reflecting to James's entire family. That after James's rather unfortunate and public dalliances, people were thinking his brother was no different – and the fact that Albus didn't have the bollocks to ask Emma to marry him, only made it worse. Mr Macmillan said it gave her too much space to explore her options, even if they all knew there was no need – and that if Albus just pulled his head out of his arse and made the commitment, they could all settle down into a peaceful life.

It wasn't much different to what Mr Macmillan usually sprouted. However, something he had said about Emma exploring her options, and the expression on his face when he had said it, made Albus think that perhaps Emma's father knew exactly what the arrangement was between them.

"Same old rubbish," Albus muttered and shrugged. "He's afraid people will think I'm not serious about our relationship," he said with a smirk. "That my brother's behaviour is rubbing off on me."

Emma closed her eyes. "Merlin… And I'm sure that wasn't even half of it," She said wearily, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. "He's getting a bit too oppressive, isn't he?"

Albus hummed and drank his tea. "I suppose."

"I'll talk to him," Emma said after a short silence, but there wasn't an inch of confidence in her expression.

They continued talking a bit about work and what they would be doing the next week. Later, Emma went back to Amanda's place where she stayed most of the nights – Albus didn't even remember the last time Emma had stayed a night in her room in her own house – and Albus was alone once more.

Albus cleaned the kitchen before he went upstairs to the sitting room, where he tried to read the muggle novel Rose had given him on his birthday, but after fifteen minutes of blankly staring at the same page, he tossed the book on the coffee table and let out a frustrated groan.

Somehow, the calmness he usually felt when he was alone in the house, had vanished and had been replaced by tension and uneasiness. Albus eventually summoned a piece of parchment and a quill, before scribbling out a letter to his best mate.

It wasn't long before Scorpius's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Upstairs!" Albus hollered, and frowned as his friend appeared into the doorway of the staircase. "Didn't know you'd come," Albus said as Scorpius walked to the couch Albus had been lounging in.

Scorpius shrugged and sat down next to Albus. "Seemed like you had a crisis."

Albus let out a dry laugh. "I might've been a bit overdramatic…"

Scorpius lifted his brows but said nothing.

Albus sighed and rubbed his face, before looking at his friend. "It's Emma. Our arrangement. Her father… Everything, I suppose."

Scorpius watched him silently for a moment. "You want to end your little…façade?"

Albus stared at the coffee table, and the book Rose had given him. "And you?" He asked instead, thinking about his cousin. "How long will you keep your façade up to punish Rose?" He knew Scorpius hadn't been dating anyone after Catherine – and that she had left him after Scorpius had stared at his ex for the better part of the night.

He could feel Scorpius's eyes narrowed at the side of his face. "Don't change the subject, knobhead."

Albus stared forward, his elbows against his knees, his hands hanging between his legs. "I suppose I do."

"But you'll lose the house?"

Albus glanced at his friend. "It is a lovely house."

Scorpius nodded slowly, appearing to be thoughtful. "It is. Perfectly reasonable to marry a lesbian girl over it, I'd say."

Albus kicked him, laughing dryly. "Wanker."

"I can buy you a house like this, you know that right?" Scorpius said pointedly.

Albus sighed. He knew, of course. He also knew that his parents could buy a similar house rather easily and let Albus live in it. But he didn't want something similar to it – he wanted this house. It had been in this house, where Albus had really grown independent, and it had been the only place he had called home after his childhood home, and he knew it would be lost the moment he and Emma ceased their agreement.

"Do you want me to buy you a house, Al?" Scorpius asked, his face expressionless.

Albus knew his friend was mocking him and sniggering on the inside. He shook his head. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Albus asked, smirking at him. "You'd be able to tell everyone that you finally made me your bitch."

Scorpius snorted, and grinned at him. "And what's wrong with that?"

"You're fucking twisted."

Scorpius shrugged. "I blame my father."

They chatted a bit more, before Scorpius left back to his home – to Malfoy Manor – and Albus went upstairs to his bedroom. They had agreed to meet next Saturday in Diagon and get shitfaced above anything else.


	10. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy ;)

**Chapter 10: Rose**

**Saturday, 29 November, 2025**

Rose woke up late on Saturday morning, but she didn't really feel well-rested. Even though Rose had gone to bed at midnight, after watching a movie with Scarlett, she hadn't fallen asleep until four in the morning.

It had mainly been her upcoming date with Nick that had kept her awake, but she had had other thoughts that needed to be mulled over, making it impossible to empty her mind and let herself drift into sleep.

Last Sunday, Rose had met Bruce again at her mother's place. She, Hugo, their mother and Bruce had had lunch together, before Rose and Hugo had left to their father's place. Apparently, Rose's and Hugo's mother had been friends with Bruce for a while now, and they had only recently started dating – which was something Rose and Hugo had found out as they had grilled Bruce without subtlety, to the point that their mother had given them a sharp, disapproving look and ordered them to stop. However, Bruce hadn't seemed bothered by the interrogation, and instead had laughed and told Rose's and Hugo's mother that he didn't mind answering any questions that came up.

The lunch had gone rather smoothly, and only for a short moment their discussion had turned slightly awkward when Bruce had inquired about Rose's and Hugo's lives. Rose had stiffly told Bruce that she was taking a second gap year between school and university, and that in the meantime, she worked in a coffee shop in Bermondsey. Bruce's eyes had then tentatively flickered to meet Rose's mother's somewhat disappointed expression, before he had nodded at Rose, and told her that many of his students did similarly – they gained some work experience and saved up money before university. Hugo on the other hand, had been stiff and awkward for completely different reasons. How was he supposed to explain to Bruce about his career? Luckily, their mother had apparently thought of everything, and had launched on to a long explanation what Hugo was studying and in which medical school, and how he had started only his first year after finishing his A-levels and would focus on his studies for the next few years before going into his first clinical rotation in a hospital.

Needless to say, both Hugo and Rose had been somewhat bewildered and had tried to keep their expressions blank. Bruce on the other hand, had listened Rose's and Hugo's mother attentively, but had kept glancing at Hugo, as if hoping he would be the one explaining all of it.

When Rose and Hugo had arrived to their father's place, their father had been very interested to hear more about Rose's and Hugo's mother's new boyfriend, and had kept shooting questions about Bruce for the entire dinner. Lavender had seemed a bit put out by it, and had excused herself and Jasmine from their company for the rest of the evening. And while Rose thought her father and mother were definitely over, and was certain that her father's questions were based purely on curiosity and not some harboured feelings for Rose's mother, she also knew that her father didn't always remember to take other people's feelings into account when he spoke.

Rose's thoughts were interrupted by her phone buzzing on the nightstand. She grabbed the device and leaned against her pillows. A smile crept up on her face as she saw that Nick had texted her.

_**Good morning, gorgeous. :)** _

Rose rolled her eyes and let out a quiet snort, her fingers tapping a quick reply.

_**Morning :) …And I don't think anyone in their right mind would call me that the first thing in the morning…** _

Nick replied a moment later.

_**Don't sell yourself short. I bet you're one of those people who wake up sleep-fuzzy and with mussed-up hair but still manage to look adorable. ;)** _

Rose laughed this time. She _definitely_ didn't fit into Nick's description. Her hair resembled a bird's nest and she was sure there were large bags under her eyes. She wrote him a reply before kicking away the blanket.

_**You're definitely biased.** _

As Rose walked out from her room and towards the kitchen, carrying her wand and phone with her, Nick replied.

_**So – a Hag, is what you're saying? …would it be weird if I said I'd be into that?** _

Rose sniggered. She flicked her wand, summoned the teapot and started to prepare tea while writing him a reply.

_**Oh god. You're a weirdo. Brilliant.** _

Rose was silently laughing when Scarlett spoke, appearing right behind her. "Someone's in a good mood," Scarlett said slyly.

Rose jumped slightly and turned quickly around, feeling her phone buzzing in her hand with Nick's reply. "Don't scare me like that!" Rose scolded her friend, who merely smirked and went to grab a couple of cups from a cupboard, nudging her chin at Rose's phone.

"Loverboy, is it?" Scarlett asked airily.

Rose didn't miss the glint of mischief in her friend's gaze. She rolled her eyes at Scarlett. "It is Nick, if that is who you meant," Rose said primly, before letting out a sigh. "The 'loverboy' part is yet to be seen."

"Oh?" Scarlett asked, putting the two cups on the counter. "Any second thoughts?"

Rose shook her head. "No, no. It's almost the opposite, I think," she said and bit her lip. "I mean, I think I know Nick well enough to know what to expect, and that's kind of what frightens me…" She said unsurely.

She and Nick had been texting back and forth the entire week, and every day Rose felt more excited when her phone buzzed with a new message. She couldn't wait to actually meet him and see if things between them were like she expected; that their conversation would go as smoothly as their texts, and if that spark she knew had been between them would still be there. At the same time, Rose was anxious since she knew she had high, and possibly too optimistic expectations regarding Nick and how things would evolve between them.

Scarlett nodded slowly, watching Rose carefully. "…If it doesn't work out?" Scarlett asked, voicing Rose's unsaid words.

Rose shrugged and absently twirled her wand between her fingers. "Yeah."

Scarlett hummed and fixed them some tea with a few flicks of her wand. "If it doesn't, then… at least you've given it a shot, right?" She asked, giving Rose an inquiring look. "Don't overthink it, Rose. Just go with the flow."

Rose thought about Scarlett's words for a moment, and as she felt the phone in her hand inform her about a new text message, she knew it wasn't as easy as Scarlett made it sound. She was already too invested in the idea what could happen with Nick, but she knew there was no point to keep anguishing about it. Only time would tell her what was to come. However, knowing how she ought to feel didn't really make any difference, and it definitely didn't make her feel settled.

"So, what are you up to today?" Rose asked as she sipped her tea after sitting down at the kitchen table – which was mostly filled by stacks of parchment and Scarlett's wizarding medical books.

Scarlett shrugged. "Nothing." She said lazily, fiddling with the handle of her cup. "Maybe I'll read some _fanfiction_ ," she said with a sly wink.

Rose groaned. "I thought you were done with it…"

Scarlett gave her a mock-astonished look. "There's more into it than some stories about one moronic Quidditch player – no offense –" Scarlett said with a grimace, and continued when Rose waved her hand in dismissal – "I mean, there's always the _Harry Potter and the Order of Sex_ , which is basically a nine-part series about the Order of the –"

"OH MY GOD, SCARLETT!" Rose shrieked when she recovered enough from the utter shock. She gave her friend the most horrified look she could summon. "Please, for the _love_ of Merlin, _please_ tell me you haven't read something like that!"

Scarlett sniggered, obviously finding Rose's utter discomfort amusing. "Of course I haven't," she said with an exasperated snort, and continued as Rose still gaped at her in a complete loss of words. "Dunno if it even exists, I just made it up to mess with you," she said and shrugged.

Rose shook her head slowly. "I love you, Scar, but you're definitely the weirdest person I've ever met."

Scarlett smiled widely. "Aww, that's sweet."

Rose suppressed a much needed eyeroll and finished her tea before making her excuses and slipping into her room to shower. She wouldn't meet Nick until eight, which meant that she had several hours before she would have to start making herself ready for the date.

Rose and Nick had agreed to go to the Swingers for drinks, street food, and of course to play crazy golf. Originally, Nick had planned on taking her to a fancy restaurant in wizarding London, but Rose had then suggested a different kind of plan, still remembering her last dinner date a bit too clearly. Rose had been at Swingers with Scarlett once, and had enjoyed the game, food and atmosphere so much that she had wanted to go again some day. It was also an activity, which would be helpful in case the conversation wouldn't be flowing with Nick the way she hoped. Nick had been excited about the change of plans, and had told Rose he had never tried minigolf, and had wanted to try it out.

* * *

As soon as there was a knock on their door, Rose jumped up from the sofa and practically ran to the hall to open it, not missing the quiet snort coming from Scarlett's direction, as her friend stayed on the couch and continued to watch the telly.

Rose opened the door, feeling slightly breathless. Nick was there, as handsome as he had been the last time Rose had seen him. He wore a pair of beige slim-fit chinos, a white button-down shirt and a dark blue and sleek bomber jacket. His short brown hair was brushed back and slightly tousled, as if he had been running his hand through it.

Nick gave her a once-over and grinned. "You look cute."

Rose had decided to wear her floral patterned black loose shirt and had tucked it into her black fitted jeans. The whole look was completed by her worn brown leather ankle boots and her leather saddle bag, where she had put her wand. She had ended up going with a casual make up, and had only made sure to spell her hair into perfect, natural waves over her shoulders.

Rose cleared her throat and inclined her head at him. "Not so bad yourself." She grabbed her coat from the hanger next to her and turned to speak to Scarlett.

"I'm off, Scar!"

"Yeah, yeah, have fun. Be home by eleven!" Scarlett's voice carried from the sitting room, as Rose stepped into the stairway.

She closed the door and gave Nick a wide-eyed look. "I'm not – I don't have to be, um." Rose cursed Scarlett in her head.

Nick gave her a subtle snort, and smiled. "I figured." He then gestured at the stairs. "Shall we?"

Rose nodded, and took the lead. She guided him into a dark alleyway close to the apartment, and then side-alonged Nick to their destination.

The place was in the city, next to the Gherkin, but since there wasn't really a suitable spot to apparate close to the building, they had to walk a couple of blocks.

"So, you've been there before?" Nick asked as they walked away from the alley close to Aldgate Station.

Rose nodded, glancing at Nick. "Yeah, I went with Scarlett last summer. It's really fun, I think you'll enjoy it."

Nick grinned at her. "I might suck though."

Rose smiled innocently. "All the better for me."

They laughed and continued to discuss different muggle activities and sports either of them had tried. Fifteen minutes later they stepped inside the building, which was decorated as an English countryside inspired golf club. They decided to start with drinks and then proceed to play minigolf.

"So…what do you do? Besides serve coffee and go to see your cousin's games?" Nick asked as they sat down with their drinks – beer for him and a G&T for Rose. He watched her intently.

Rose huffed out a laugh. "That… pretty much sums it up," she said with a shrug. "I have no life, apparently."

Nick shook his head with mild amusement. "I'm sure that's not true. I mean, you do occasionally make an appearance in your cousin's parties, right?"

"Like, once in a year?" Rose asked with a small grin.

Nick seemed to think of it for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "Yeah. I agree. You have no life," he said with a serious look, before a wide grin took place on his face. "So, you stay home every night with your roommate and knit socks?"

"Occasionally I meet my parents and my half-sister. And knit for them as well." Rose replied with a deadpan voice.

Nick sniggered before inquiring a bit more about Rose's job and asking if she would serve him coffee if he popped by some time at the coffee shop – a request which Rose firmly declined.

Rose felt so at ease in his company, that she briefly wondered why had she even stressed about meeting Nick? She knew him, and every time she had been in his company, it had been anything but awkward. And as she looked into Nick's dark brown eyes, she knew that the spark was still there, like it had always been.

"Did you really ask me out when we were at James's party last year?" Rose asked, suddenly remembering what Nick had said to Scarlett at Albus's party.

Nick chuckled. "Yeah, don't you remember?" He asked with a sly expression.

Rose rolled her eyes. "I wasn't really in a condition to keep up a proper conversation," she muttered, and Nick continued laughing.

"I believe you, Rose." Nick said with a smile.

Rose felt something pleasant flicker in the bottom of her stomach when Nick said her name, and it had nothing to do with the drink she had nearly finished.

Nick put his empty beer bottle on the table and gave Rose an inquiring look. "Are you ready to lose?"

Rose huffed a laugh and took one last sip of her drink before standing up from their booth. "Do you even know how to play minigolf?" She asked teasingly.

It turned out, that Nick had known exactly how to play – that, or he had been experiencing beginner's luck. Nick had won every single one of the nine holes, managing to win Rose – who had thought she was better than average, based on the last time she had played – with at least two strokes on each hole, and never going over par.

"Aww, Rose, don't look so glum," Nick said lightly as they walked down the road towards the Thames, after Nick had suggested that they could stop for a quick drink at a pub. "Neither of us can help the fact that I'm a natural," he said airily.

Rose narrowed her eyes and gave Nick a much-deserved nudge, which he used as an opportunity to snatch her hand so that they could walk hand in hand towards their destination. Rose thought wryly how smooth he was, and that Nick was lucky that she wasn't as bad at losing as her father was, since their date would've probably ended right then and there.

On their way to the river bank, they talked a bit about Nick's apprenticeship and then reminisced their final years at Hogwarts. As Nick had graduated two years prior to Rose, they hadn't really had the same group of friends. But as they both had been Gryffindors and somewhat acquainted through James and Fred, Rose was aware of some of the things James and his friends had been up to during their school years.

Rose laughed especially hard as Nick recollected how he and Fred had once hexed all Slytherin brooms, so that they would only go forward with a snail's pace, and it had taken Flitwick a week before he had been able to reverse the spell. It had been a good week of practice for the Gryffindor team.

"Good times," Nick said with an easy smile as they stepped into the pub and reached the bar.

Nick bought them drinks after asking what Rose would like to have, and they found a corner table with two free seats next to each other in the otherwise packed pub.

"Now that we've gone through the highlights of my school years, I want to hear more about all the mischief you were up to at Hogwarts?" Nick said and lifted his brows in inquiry.

Rose gave him an amused look. "What makes you think there was any?"

She wasn't sure if Nick was merely taking the piss out of her, since it was widely known that when Rose had been at Hogwarts, she had preferred studying over anything else. Even Scorpius had come second whenever there had been schoolwork or exams to finish.

Nick grinned. "After there was no hesitation on your part when you agreed to play a drinking game with me last year, I started to wonder, what kind of rebellious secret identity you have had all these years. And I thought, there probably are a lot of things I don't know about you."

Rose shook her head and gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry to disappoint. I only grew into the 'rebellious identity' after utterly screwing up my life."

As Nick frowned a bit at her words, Rose quickly scolded herself and continued. "I promise there was nothing but studying for me at Hogwarts. I only learned to loosen up a bit after graduation."

Nick nodded and watched her closely. "…After you broke up with Scorpius?"

Rose took in a deep breath and stared at the table in front of them. It was no secret that they had been together, and she was sure that everyone knew about them – and about how they had broken up before graduation. It just wasn't something Rose wanted to talk about. Especially not with Nick.

"Sorry. You don't have to answer that," Nick said with an apologising smile.

He reached out to push a tendril of Rose's hair behind her ear and stared into her eyes.

Rose completely forgot what she had been thinking and could only think of the fact that they were sitting very close to one another, turned towards each other, with nothing between them.

Nick's hand lingered close to her ear and Rose was sure she saw his head turn slightly towards her. It made her somewhat dizzy, and she couldn't really wrap her head around it before there was a sudden voice that broke the moment.

" _Rosie_!"

Rose whirled towards the pub, forcing Nick to pull slightly back, and saw the pleasantly surprised Albus walking towards their table. Albus's expression tensed slightly when he saw who Rose was with, but it seemed that he recovered quickly and grinned at Nick.

"Hey, mate." Albus said with a nod.

Nick grinned at Albus. "Hey."

Rose was about to ask what Albus was doing at the pub, when she saw who had followed her cousin to their table. She froze.

It was Scorpius.

Scorpius didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that Rose and Nick were there together and sitting somewhat closely next to each other. Instead, he greeted them both and then told Albus that he would be at the bar, to get them drinks.

"Is it just the two of you?" Albus asked casually after Scorpius had left. He glanced at the surrounding tables.

Rose cleared her throat. "Um. Yes."

Albus's brow twitched slightly up and he nodded. "Okay. Cool." He jerked the back of his head to the other side of the pub. "Our group is there if you wanna join us?"

Rose tensed in her seat. She could feel Nick's eyes trained at her as Albus's inquiring gaze moved from her to Nick.

Nick shrugged. "Rose can decide."

Albus gave Rose a somewhat challenging look, and it was obvious he was trying to determine if the two of them were on an actual date. If Rose declined, Albus would have his answer – _and_ Rose and Nick would be on a display for the entire night. If Rose said yes, it would mean she would be facing the most awkward night she could think of: drinking with her date _and her ex._

Rose felt a spark of annoyance towards her cousin, since it was none of his business whether she was on a date or not, and she definitely didn't want to join them with Nick. So, she chose the coward's option.

"Actually, we were leaving." She said with a strained smile and stood up.

It was totally a lie, and it was clear that Albus had also caught on it as his eyes flickered to the table and to their half-empty glasses before he looked back up.

For her benefit, Nick didn't say anything and stood up, ready to follow Rose out.

Albus shrugged. "Okay. Good seeing you," he said with a smile and then turned to walk back to his friends.

Rose avoided Nick's gaze as they put on their coats and walked to the door. However, she was unable to not look at Scorpius, who was standing at the bar and watching her leave with a small frown between his brows.

Outside the pub, Rose and Nick walked without destination for a while. Rose thought back at the encounter and suddenly hoped she could go home. The night with Nick had been fun and just what she had needed, but seeing Albus and Scorpius had somewhat dampened her spirits.

As they reached the river, Nick spoke.

"Can I take you home?" He said, as if guessing her thoughts.

Rose stopped in place and turned to look at him with a mild surprise. "Um. Sure. If – if you don't mind me calling it a night…?"

"Sure." He said easily.

They walked to a nearby alley to apparate into Rose's neighbourhood. After reaching their destination, they continued to walk in silence towards Rose's building.

When they reached the front door, Rose turned to Nick and gave him a hesitant smile. "I had a fun night."

Nick studied her features before he smiled teasingly. "You sure? I mean, you _did_ lose all nine holes – _ouch!"_

Rose shoved him lightly. "You're an arse." She said, laughing lightly. "I'll get you next time."

Nick's brows lifted up and he gave Rose a wide grin. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time, huh?"

Rose huffed, shaking her head. "Not so sure yet."

Nick's smile softened and he took a step closer to her. "I had fun too," he murmured. His hand was back at Rose's cheek, pushing her hair behind her ear, making Rose's breath hitch in her throat.

This time, there was nothing stopping him as he leaned towards her and closed the distance between their lips.

* * *

It was close to midnight when Rose walked into the flat, but she wasn't surprised that she found Scarlett in the same position on the sofa, watching the telly.

"How was the date?" Scarlett asked as Rose proceeded to walk to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.

"It was great," Rose replied before opening the tap.

Her insides were still tingling with excitement and warmth after the kiss downstairs. Or, several kisses. Her thoughts lingered in the fact that Nick was clearly a great kisser, and knew exactly how to make a woman's head spin. Rose wanted to linger in the thought of his sinfully talented tongue, but unfortunately, Scarlett's laugh interrupted her.

"Oh my god, Rose. You're _so_ in the clouds right now…"

Rose blinked and realised the water was still running, and she had been standing there, staring into nothingness for a while. Hastily, she closed the tap and whirled around to see Scarlett grinning madly at her, nearly hanging halfway off the sofa while watching Rose.

"That good, huh?" Scarlett asked teasingly.

Rose narrowed her eyes at her friend, but couldn't stop the smile spreading on her face. She sighed longingly. " _So_ good."

Scarlett sniggered as Rose walked to the sitting room and plopped down to sit next to her friend.

"And the rest of it?" Scarlett asked and put the volume down in the telly. "Did you have fun?"

Rose thought back at their date and smiled. The minigolf had been rather fun, even if she had lost each hole, and there hadn't been a single awkward moment between them during the whole – and then Rose sobered. There had been, though. Meeting Albus and Scorpius had practically made her call it a night and run away from the pub. She frowned and started to wonder what Nick was thinking about the whole scenario, as they hadn't discussed it. Was he mad that Rose hadn't told Albus that she had been on a date with Nick? Was he upset that Rose had wanted to go home? Did he think Rose had still feelings for Scorpius and that had been the reason for her odd behaviour?

There was a small, nagging sound in the back of her brain, asking _wasn't it though?_

"Okay, you're starting to freak me out, Rosie…" Scarlett muttered and stared at Rose with concern in her eyes. "What happened?" She asked, obviously seeing the change in Rose's expression.

Rose sighed and shook her head. "Everything was fine – brilliant even – before we went into the pub close to the riverbank." Rose looked away and stared at the table as she spoke. "We were talking about everything, really, and I enjoyed his company, and…"

"…And?" Scarlett prompted after a short silence.

"Albus and Scorpius were there…"

"Ouch."

Rose gave her friend an exasperated look.

"What happened?"

Rose thought back at the rather awkward meeting, and remembered the expression on Scorpius's face when she had left. He had looked upset. And confused.

"I ran." Rose said simply and looked at Scarlett.

Scarlett mulled Rose's words for a moment, before nodding approvingly. "Expected."

Rose huffed.

"So what did Nick say about it?" Scarlett asked, and slouched slightly down on the sofa, leaning her head against the headrest and turned her attention to Rose.

Rose grimaced. "Nothing. He came with me and we, kinda, didn't talk about that…"

" _Ouch_."

Rose scowled at her friend. "Will you stop with the 'ouches'?"

Scarlett watched Rose with a scrutinising look. "What did Scorpius say? How did he react?"

Rose gave her an incredulous look. "He said nothing – and why would he react?"

Scarlett lifted a perfect, single brow at Rose.

" _Fine_." Rose huffed. "He looked – well – he looked upset."

There was a knowing look on Scarlett's face, which made Rose grit her teeth together.

"Stop. That."

Scarlett leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table before glancing at Rose with an innocent look. "Stop what?"

"I didn't run because I'm still in love with Scorpius – I ran because – because it would've been awkward!"

Scarlett nodded slowly. "Of course." She said lightly, obviously not believing a word Rose was saying. She started to flick through the options on Netflix. "Fancy a movie?"

"Scarlett!" Rose huffed.

Scarlett turned to look at Rose, evidently trying to suppress a smirk. "Yes?"

"You're – insufferable!" Rose hissed, even more so annoyed as her friend kept smirking at her. She stood up and ground her teeth together. She stared at Scarlett's knowing look and shook her head. "I'm going to sleep."

Scarlett smiled sincerely at her. "Good night, Rosie."

Rose huffed a one last exasperated huff before marching to her bedroom and muttering a good night to her friend.

She was definitely not going to ruin whatever it was that was happening between her and Nick with what seemed to remain unresolved between her and Scorpius. She was not.


	11. Hugo

**Chapter 11: Hugo**

**Monday, 1 December 2025**

Hugo blinked and squinted at the scribbled letters on the chart. His head felt fuzzy, and he knew it had been too long since he had slept, or even briefly closed his eyes. He frowned, and he had to think for a moment what day it even was before he remembered it was Sunday. Early Monday, really, which meant he had been working close to twenty-two hours, as his shift had started early on Sunday morning. He had once again missed the lunch at his mother's, and the dinner at his father's place – and was sure he would hear about it afterwards.

He let out a weary sigh and rubbed his face, cursing himself for taking Healer Sanders's rounds, when the senior Healer had had a family emergency and had to leave late on Sunday evening at the beginning of his night shift. Unfortunately, there was a serious understaffing situation going on at St Mungo's, and there wasn't really anyone else who could've helped. It seemed that everyone in the department Hugo was training to be a Healer in – Accidental spells and Emergencies – was doing overtime, and it wasn't any different in the Permanent Spell Damage and Blood Curses department, where Healer Sanders was one of the Healers in charge.

Hugo glanced at the stack of clipboards – there were only five of them. He would manage, as they were all non-critical patients and those rarely required more than fifteen minutes each. And _then_ he would finally get some sleep. But for now, he had to stay awake, and had to remain alert, and for that, he needed something stronger than a simple Pepper-up Potion. Hugo took the charts and made his way to the Potions cabinet in the cellar. Only Healers had access there, but since he was substituting Healer Sanders, Hugo had no problem letting himself into the secured room.

He grabbed a vial of Wiggenweld Potion, and another one of Wideye Potion, which were both used as antidote for the Draught of Living Death, and together made quite the concoction – something that would allow Hugo to stay clear-minded and awake for some hours, giving his brain a shock of energy and a much-needed boost.

Hugo knew the Healers were allowed to use a simple Pepper-Up Potion for a similar purpose he was seeking help for, but also knew that everyone thought it didn't really help much. He knew that Sanders himself had taken Wideye Potion occasionally to sharpen his focus, but mixing potions – as well as taking them without approval – was prohibited. He also knew that the mixture he was going for had a rather unfortunate side-effect: it was highly addictive.

It wasn't the first time he had resorted to taking it.

Hugo hurried towards the fourth floor, passing a handful of witches and wizards in their lime-green robes who he greeted, and who looked like Hugo felt – like they would very much like to be sleeping in their own beds rather than being dragged from patient and emergency to another.

Once he reached the fourth-floor hall, Hugo glanced at the topmost chart, wondering where his first patient was. During the day, there was a secretary directing the Healers, visitors and the patients on each floor, but at night time, it was every wizard for himself. It didn't really help that Hugo had never been on the fourth floor.

The Janus Thickey Ward had been reformed into three separate wards some years ago: a closed psychiatric ward for long term spell damage patients, a clinic that treated both spell damage and non-spell damage related psychiatric patients, and a ward for permanent spell damage and blood curses.

Hugo's first three patients were in the permanent spell damage and blood curses ward. There was a young woman, suffering from an ancient blood curse. Then there were two men who had received permanent spell damage after a duel where one of them had used a spell of their own invention. Both men suffered occasional moments of unconsciousness, during which their vital functions weakened somewhat. They were monitored throughout the day with magical bracelets, in case there wasn't a Healer stationed in their ward during their seizures.

The last two patients were in the closed ward. Hugo groaned inwardly. Perhaps his thoughts about fifteen minutes had been too optimistic.

He wondered if Scarlett had been asked to do hours in addition to her apprenticeship, as Hugo was rather sure his house mate from school treated some of the permanent spell damage ward patients. He made a mental note to ask her the next time he would see her. Hugo took in a deep breath and walked inside the quiet ward. The lights were dimmed in the short hallway and the small sitting room that opened to Hugo's left. There were only six doors, and his first patient was in room one.

Hugo pulled the vials he had grabbed from the Potions cabinet from the pockets of his lime-green robes, and tossed them down in one go.

"I saw that."

Cold trickled down his spine while the voice made him jump slightly. Hugo spluttered, shoving the vials back into his pocket and looked around the room.

There was a girl not much older than him, sitting in an armchair in the dark corner of the sitting room.

Hugo ground his teeth together, cursing himself inwardly for not checking his surroundings well enough. He knew he would be in a spot of bother if word got out that he was taking potions on the job. He schooled his features and cleared his throat. "Saw what?" He asked innocently, clasping his hands behind his back.

The girl smirked. She was small and frail looking, with black pixie cut hair and pale skin. She was nearly buried in a thick woollen blanket. "Clever," She said with a tiny nod.

Hugo frowned at her. "Is everything all right, Ms…"

"Olivia Parker." The girl said with a weary smile. "Sanders mentioned he would be sending a Trainee to check on me," she said lightly as she studied Hugo.

Hugo had met lots of different patients and people during his short time at the hospital, and knew that some of them didn't approve being treated by the Trainees, and instead thought that only Healers were qualified enough to see them. He also knew that some – especially the patients who stayed long periods in the hospital, like for instance, Ms Parker, who had a terminal illness – were somewhat attached to their usual Healers and had difficulties accepting care from others.

He was curious to find out if she would be like that. Hugo summoned a polite smile on his face and gave her a nod, deciding to worry about the potions later. "Indeed. I'm Trainee Healer Weasley. How are you doing today, Ms Parker?" He asked and pulled up the clipboard with her information to glance at it. He had read all the charts before his rounds, but he had been somewhat overcome by fatigue at that point.

The girl – she was only nineteen, so she was a girl in Hugo's opinion – had been in St Mungo's for a little over a year. The blood curse made her weak by default, but during the past year, the disease had debilitated her even further, so that she was unable to live at home due to a congestive heart failure and muscular dystrophies. The curse had been attacking her body for a long time, and she was now considered to be in the terminal stage of the disease.

Ms Parker gave him a wry smile. "I don't feel like dying, so there's that."

Hugo glanced at the chart once more and then gave her a searching look. "Trouble sleeping?"

Ms Parker huffed and looked away. "Did you just read it or are you being perceptive?" She muttered scornfully.

Hugo breathed in through his nose. In a few hours, he could be at home. "Does it matter?" He asked simply, lifting his brows at her.

She turned back to look at him and let out an amused sound. "Fair point."

"May I perform the diagnostic charm?" He asked, like he did from every patient who wasn't in critical condition and was conscious and able to decide for themselves. She didn't answer, but merely stared at him with a scrutinising look.

"Well?" Hugo asked, standing still.

The girl shrugged.

Hugo forced down the hint of irritation he felt, and reminded himself that the patient was meeting him for the first time, and was entitled to be wary when meeting new Healers. But he wasn't going to move on to the next patient before doing the diagnostic charm, and if it was the only thing he would be able to drag out of her, so be it, he thought as he swished his wand.

"Anything besides sleeplessness?" He asked and then tapped his wand at the chart to write down the results. "The diagnostic looks similar to the one taken in the morning," Hugo muttered after a quick compare.

The girl leaned back against the chair, looking at the ceiling. "I'm bored out of my mind, and I think someone should just do a solid and end my life," she said steadily.

Hugo watched her for a long moment. "Have you –"

"Talked to anyone?" She asked sharply, interrupting him. She gave him a pointed look. "I'm talking to you."

Hugo nodded slowly. "Unfortunately, I'm not – "

"A professional?" She said, cutting his sentence once more. "Didn't think you were," she said shrewdly, the meaning behind her words not lost to him.

Hugo reminded himself to stay calm for the umpteenth time during his longer-than-a-year-shift. "I can talk to Healer Jacobs – the psychiatric Healer in charge – if you wish."

Ms Parker's eyes danced as she looked at Hugo. "You don't think Healer Sanders hasn't already tried that?" The corners of her lips were turning upwards.

"I suppose he has?"

"He has."

Before Hugo was able to flick his wand at the clipboard to add more notes, she hastily added. "I'm not suicidal, you know. Just bored." She said quietly, her eyes moving over Hugo's features, before she looked down at her hands. "There's nothing to do here but to wait. Wait for death."

There was a short silence. After looking at her chart, Hugo knew that the girl didn't have any family, or any visitors either. She was alone and had nothing to help her spend the time of her remaining life. He tried not to feel bad for her, to pity her. It was hard, but it was something every Healer and Trainee needed to learn in order to do their jobs.

"I can summon you some books," Hugo finally suggested.

The girl shook her head slightly. "Don't bother," she said a bit defeatedly. "I've read everything in this hospital, I'm certain of it. Just…go ahead with your rounds. I'm sure you have other patients waiting."

Hugo frowned at her, but admitted defeat when he saw it. "Very well. I'm here until four if something comes up."

He was nearly by the door number three, when she spoke. "What did you take? The potions?" She asked with a curious voice.

Hugo turned back to look at her, and saw a hint of a smug smile on her lips.

"Pumpkin Juice." He said simply, knowing she wouldn't believe a word.

The girl rolled her eyes. "All right, Mr Mystery. Your secret is safe with me," she said and winked at him.

Hugo bristled, but knocked on the door before slipping into the room of his next patient.

The two patients in rooms three and four were checked upon relatively quickly – Hugo woke them both up for a moment to perform the diagnostic charms and informed them that he was substituting Healer Sanders before the morning shift would start. They were both pretty out of it, but as nothing was out of ordinary with their condition, Hugo was able to leave sooner than he had thought.

Ms Parker had already disappeared from the sitting room when Hugo came out of room three. Hugo wondered if she had finally managed to get some sleep.

After seeing all five of Healer Sanders's patients, and helping with two more in Hugo's own department as the morning shift was late, he was finally able to leave home.

Hugo was tired: the potions he had taken some hours ago were wearing off, leaving him feeling sluggish and unable to focus. It was close to five in the morning, and he had been awake for over twenty-five hours. He apparated into the small shed in their garden and dragged himself to the house, ready to sleep for twenty hours in a row.

The house was silent, as it always was when he stumbled in at such time. His mother was still sleeping, and most likely would wake up in an hour to get ready for work. Hugo wondered when the last time had been he had talked with her, and knew what conversation was waiting for him the next time he did. He knew she was worried for him, but Hugo was doing fine. Sure, he did long hours in the hospital, but he had it under control. He just needed a sleeping draught to help him sleep and then he would be right as rain.

* * *

Hugo woke up to the sound of the doorbell. He blinked and glanced at the watch on his wrist. There was a moment of shock when he saw the time, but then relaxed, as he remembered that he didn't have to attend to his training that day, after working nearly the whole previous day and night.

It was four in the afternoon, and the doorbell chimed again. Hugo groaned, slid off from his bed and threw on a pair of joggers and a worn-out t-shirt. He scratched his head as he walked downstairs to the door. Whoever it was, either respected his mother too much to use magic and was not aware that she wasn't home, or the person at the door was a muggle.

He wasn't sure which option he hoped to encounter – one of his relatives or one of his mother's acquaintances.

It was Albus.

"Hey, mate." Albus said cheerfully as he stepped inside, and then took another look at Hugo, a small frown between his brows. "You just woke up?"

Hugo grunted an incoherent reply and walked past his cousin towards the kitchen to make himself coffee. He needed something to properly wake him up.

Hugo felt Albus's gaze on the back of his neck as he silently made coffee, and when Hugo finally turned towards his cousin, lifting his brows and an empty cup as in to ask if he too wanted coffee, Albus shook his head and finally spoke. "No, thanks. You okay?"

Hugo shrugged. "Brilliant." He grunted, thrumming his fingers on the counter as he waited for the coffeemaker to prepare his much-needed refreshment. He knew not to speed up the muggle electric device with magic, after breaking the previous one and causing a mild blast in the kitchen. His mother hadn't been pleased.

"Late night at the hospital?" Albus asked, leaning against the kitchen island, his eyes moving studiously over Hugo's face.

"Long shift," He muttered. "What's up?"

Albus chewed the inside of his cheek. "You sure you're doing all right?"

Hugo narrowed his eyes at his cousin. "My mum had your mum put you into this?" He asked bluntly, and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. _Finally,_ he thought, almost itching to have something to clear his mind.

Albus gave him a sheepish look. "Something like that, yeah."

"I'm fine. I had a long rest, and other than my sleeping schedule being a bit off-kilter, everything's brill," He said and took a long sip of the scalding hot coffee.

He hissed after the coffee burned his tongue slightly, knowing he should've cast a cooling charm on the drink.

Albus hummed. "If you say so…" he muttered. "You, um… talked to Rose recently?"

Hugo stared at his cousin for a moment, trying to think what he was on about, before he realised. "This about Nick, then?"

Of course, Al would come to him after finding out that Rose and Nick were dating – or, for what Hugo knew, had been only _one_ date so far. The last time Hugo had seen his sister, she had told him that she and Nick had agreed to go on a date – which was something Hugo had anticipated, after seeing the two of them at the Quidditch game.

He had also anticipated Albus confronting him about it sooner or later. Hugo knew that Albus was rarely interested in meddling into other people's relationships, but at the same time, he knew that when it came to Scorpius, Albus always left his comfort zone for his friend.

Albus looked a bit displeased. "That obvious, huh?"

"Scorpius wants her back, doesn't he?" Hugo asked bluntly, putting his cup on the counter and crossing his arms while watching Albus squirm slightly under his steady look.

"I dunno," Albus grumbled, and then grimaced. "Yeah. I suppose he's wanted her back for a long while now, even if he denies it…"

Hugo scoffed quietly. The bloody git had an odd way of showing it. Hugo wasn't interested gossiping about other people's matters, but when it considered his sister, Hugo got his defences up. He knew Rose had messed up when she had broken up with Scorpius, but what the blonde Slytherin had done in return, had been outright brutal. Hugo might've been biased, but he would always choose his sister's side over anyone else's.

"Tell me about it," Albus said wearily, replying to Hugo's exasperated expression.

And it wasn't like Hugo had any grudge against Scorpius – it was a long time ago when Scorpius and Rose had broken up, and if Rose had come to terms with it, then Hugo had no reason not to do so himself. He didn't really prefer Nick to date Rose either, as Hugo knew enough of what kind of a bloke he was, but he wasn't going to intervene, as long as Rose was happy. And she had seemed happy at the Quidditch game, where she had laughed and smiled and seemed more relaxed than Hugo had seen her in a while.

"Just… leave it, okay?" Hugo said and dropped his arms, before grabbing the coffee cup. "I'm sure Rose knows what she's doing."

Albus nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. He spoke again after a moment, as Hugo was filling his second cup.

"Wanna go for a run?" Albus asked, rubbing his hands together.

Hugo shook his head. "Nah. I need to grab some books and head back to the hospital for the night."

He would be doing yet another night shift at the Accidental spells and Emergencies, and would stay there until Tuesday afternoon to complete his eight to four training hours.

Albus frowned at him. "You sure you need to go there?"

Hugo gave his cousin a long look. "I appreciate the concern, mate, but I'm fine," he said firmly and nodded his head at the door. "I gotta go soon, so I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

It was obvious that Albus was somewhat taken aback by Hugo's blunt behaviour, but after a short moment, his cousin merely nodded and took his leave, telling Hugo to contact him whenever he liked.

Hugo put his coffee cup on the counter and made his way towards the library.

He had had a thought the previous night after talking with Ms Parker – that perhaps there were still books she hadn't read. And if there was someone who had a magnificent collection of literature, it was Hugo's mother. His mother actually had a small library in the house, and while only muggle books were on display, Hugo knew the magical ones were hidden by a spell behind one of the walls.

He looked around the large room: there were several tall bookshelves covering the walls and framing the narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. In the middle of the room, there were two sofas opposite to each other, and between them a long coffee table. Hugo had never counted, but he was rather sure there were thousands of books: fiction, children's books, history books, biographies, cookbooks, science books, and a large collection of medical books. The wizarding collection – perhaps not as magnificent as the muggle one, but still something that rivalled some of the old wizarding family libraries – was stacked in a windowless storage room behind one of the walls, accessed by a spell from the only strip of wall in the room in the far corner that wasn't taken over by a bookshelf.

Hugo decided that muggle literature should do, as Ms Parker had most likely read only wizarding books while staying in St Mungo's. He walked closer to the shelves, skimming the spines with his fingertips, while wondering what she would like to read. In the end, he grabbed three books: two of which he hadn't read and were categorised under ' _Natural Sciences'_ , and one which was one of Hugo's favourite books as a child and found under _'Children's Books':_ _A Bear Called Paddington._

He hurried upstairs to get ready for work, and after fifteen minutes, he was making his way towards the shed in the backyard, in order to apparate into the hospital.

* * *

"You're back." Ms Parker said as soon as Hugo stepped into the quiet ward.

She was alone in the room again, sitting in the same armchair she had sat the previous night, gazing out of the window into the darkness. The lights were still on, as it was only eight in the evening. Hugo knew that Healer Sanders had already done his evening rounds, and that there would be someone else in the night shift. Hugo was going to be working in his own department that night.

"Sanders didn't mention about you."

Hugo gave her a small smile. "I'm in Accidental spells and Emergencies today. I believe Trainee Healer Barrows is in the night shift," He said – recollecting the name from the 'in charge' list he had reviewed when he had started his shift.

Ms Parker nodded slowly, watching Hugo closely.

"I actually came here to give you something." He said and walked closer to her, noticing how a mix of emotions crossed her expression: curiosity, excitement and surprise.

Hugo stopped next to the small table in the centre of the sitting room and placed the three books on the table. "Something I doubt is stored in the hospital library…"

The girl stared at the books in silence, before she glanced up at him, blinking. "You… you brought me… books?" She asked carefully.

Hugo shrugged. "I do want them back." He said with a small grin, watching as she leaned closer to examine the three books, moving them to lie side by side on the table so that she could see the covers.

"Don't really know what your taste in books is like, but I hope you'll find at least one of them readable," Hugo said as the silence stretched on.

Her fingertips touched the corner of the children's book, and a small smile curved her lips. "… _A Bear Called Paddington_?" She asked pointedly, amusement flickering in her eyes as she looked at him.

Hugo lifted his brows. "Be nice. It's one of my favourites."

Ms Parker sniggered. "Good to know," she said and glanced at the books, before looking back at him, her expression a bit more serious. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Hugo nodded, knowing that he was taking too long with his visit and was expected to be downstairs, where everything always seemed to be hectic, regardless of the time and day. "I should go. You can, uh, give the books to Healer Sanders when you've finished them." He said and turned to leave.

"Save some lives."

Hugo glanced at her over his shoulder, a small frown between his brows. "I'll, er, try my best," he said awkwardly, hoping that it was the right thing to say. He was still a bit bothered by her words the previous night and had wrote a note to Sanders what she had said. About hoping that someone would finish her off.

The girl snorted, evidently guessing Hugo's line of thought. "Even if I'm dying, doesn't mean I wish it to happen." She said with amusement in her voice.

Hugo huffed, shaking his head slightly, and scolded himself inwardly. He left the fourth floor and quickly made his way back to his ward on the ground floor.


	12. Ginny

**Chapter 12: Ginny**

**Wednesday, 3 December 2025**

It was Wednesday again and Ginny was in for a torture session – in other words: Pilates – with her best friend. The only reason she hadn’t cancelled like she had done the previous week, was the urgent need to talk to her.

“How is everything?” Hermione asked after closing and locking the door behind her.

Ginny let out a huff of exasperation. If only she knew!

The previous night, when Ginny had come home from work, someone had stepped out from the backdoor of her house – someone she hadn’t thought she would see within a hundred-mile radius of her home.

Malfoy.

She had been too stunned to react, both by the fact that it had been Malfoy, as well as the thought that Harry had actually seen someone else than his immediate family. Malfoy had had a good twenty-second advantage to walk briskly to meet her in the middle of the backyard and confront her.

_“Mrs Potter, how lovely to meet you.” Malfoy said with a hint of a sneer in his voice._

_He was dressed in high collared black robes, and his longish, platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail._

_When Ginny merely stared at him in mild horror, he continued, “I assume you are still trying to wrap your small head around the matter of my presence in here, so let me help,” he said with a nasty smirk. “Your husband graciously invited me to have tea with him, and didn’t take no for an answer.”_

_Malfoy pursed his lips. “I believe his exact words were ‘Malfoy, you owe me’ after I had sent my fifth refusal by owl.”_

_Ginny scoffed. “What?”_

_Malfoy gave her a studious look. “I always thought you were too quick witted to be a Weasley, but perhaps I was mistaken.”_

_Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I mean, why would Harry invite – you – of all people, into our home?” Ginny asked bluntly, feeling both frustrated and bewildered. She glanced at the house, feeling a sudden wave of panic. “Is he okay?”_

_Malfoy arched a brow at her and looked amused. “Are you certain you want me to answer that?”_

_“Damn it, Malfoy,” Ginny hissed._

_Malfoy rolled his eyes and his expression became slightly strained. “He… wanted to make an apology.”_

_Ginny gaped at him. “He…”_

_“While witnessing you trying to grasp the concept of long sentences, I’m afraid I am late from another meeting and simply must make my excuses.”_

_“Malfoy.” Ginny gritted through her teeth after the man had walked past her, his head held high._

_Malfoy turned to look at her, his face now void of the contemptuousness and smugness that Ginny had always seen in his expression. He looked somewhat concerned._

_“Fix him.” He said to the ground between them. “I can’t believe I am saying this aloud –” he shook his head slightly, before continuing – “I need Potter to be someone I can despise in peace, and not… not that.” He said and waved his hand towards the house._

_Ginny’s mind whirled as she stared at the man in front of her. “Afraid he’ll befriend you, after all these years?” She asked with a sharp voice, knowing it would set him off and wipe the somewhat bothersome look of compassion away from his face._

_Malfoy scoffed, his face hardening. “Tell Potter if he extends another invite, I will send a hex in the return owl. Consider my debt paid.”_

_With that, Malfoy stomped away from the house and disapparated as soon as he was outside the wards._

Ginny retold the encounter to her friend as they walked towards the studio. Needless to say, Hermione was as taken aback by it as Ginny had been and urged her friend to continue.

“So, when I went inside, Harry was in the kitchen, cooking, as if nothing had happened!” Ginny said in exasperation.

“He made dinner?” Hermione asked, her brows lifting up in surprise. “In the _kitchen_?”

Ginny nodded quickly, her eyes widening. “Yes, can you believe it?” Ginny breathed, shaking her head slightly.

They both knew it was no small thing, for Harry to enter their kitchen after all that had happened in there, and even spend time in there for more than a brief moment.

“He just went there one day, and then the next day, and each time he stayed longer,” Ginny said in a mild bewilderment. She had been utterly surprised when Harry had sat down for breakfast with her the previous Sunday.

“I mean, he has been seeing the Healer for two weeks, and he’s already spending a lot more time in the house than he was before. I mean, yes – he’s still locked up in the shed at times, and he outright refuses to sleep in the same floor with me, he definitely doesn’t want to talk about it with me, but… he has started to seek my company. And for the past couple of days, whenever he’s been at the house, he has spent a lot of his time in the kitchen, trying out different things – which I’m definitely not complaining about, as it turns out he’s a rather good cook.” Ginny said, shaking her head slightly at the bewilderment she was feeling.

Hermione stopped in her tracks and smiled widely at Ginny, who too had stilled in the middle of the sidewalk. “I’m so happy to hear that, Gin.”

Ginny nodded and smiled at her friend, feeling somewhat overemotional by the events. She cleared her throat and forced her mind back to the previous night.

“Well, as I was saying – about Malfoy – when I got inside, Harry was in the kitchen, looking so comfortable even though it had been _Malfoy_ who had had tea with him.”

Hermione hummed in agreement. “It does sound a bit suspicious. Continue,” she said, urging Ginny.

“Apparently, Harry’s Healer had encouraged him to start going through unresolved matters from his past – those of which he has the capability to handle at the moment. And apparently, one of them is Malfoy,” Ginny said with a hint of incredulity in her voice as they continued their walk towards the studio.

“So – they had had tea and had a discussion about their schoolyears. Harry told me that he had wanted to apologise him what had happened between them – mainly the bathroom incident, you know –” Ginny said with a grimace – “when Malfoy had nearly died.”

Hermione cringed but nodded thoughtfully.

Ginny pursed her lips as she thought about the blonde git before she continued. “I doubt Malfoy extended the same courtesy to Harry though – I mean, you do remember how horrible he was?”

Hermione hummed in agreement. “What did Harry say?”

Ginny shrugged. “He didn’t really go into the details, but said that Malfoy had been polite and understanding.”

Hermione looked surprised.

“My thoughts exactly.” Ginny grunted.

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek and looked contemplative. “There of course is a possibility that Malfoy _has_ grown up and is not who he was twenty years ago,” she said shrewdly.

“If Malfoy was being polite, I think it was more to do with the fact that he doesn’t want to feel guilty about disliking Harry when Harry is not himself…” Ginny muttered. “He basically told me so.”

Hermione gave Ginny a long look but didn’t argue back. “Whatever it was, I think we should focus on Harry and how he is making progress.”

They stepped into the Pilates studio, and as Ginny had anticipated, the one-hour class was pure hell.

“Why don’t we go to some – ” Ginny huffed a long breath as she tried to hold herself rather unsuccessfully in the teaser position – “Bloody hell,” she grunted, her legs flopping down against the mat – “a beginner’s class?!” She hissed. “This is torture!”

Their instructor walked past them. “You should begin by learning the one-leg teaser,” she told Ginny with a pitying smile, “Keep one knee bent and your foot flat on the ground. It is a bit easier than the full teaser, but this way you can build yourself up to the full teaser.”

Ginny smiled tensely, even though on the inside, she was somewhat annoyed. “Yeah. Thanks.” She muttered. After a few tries, she managed to keep herself still in the one-leg version.

“You can do all the postures modified, but now that you mention it, I think we could see when their beginner’s classes are held,” Hermione said with a thoughtful look.

Ginny watched Hermione to hold the posture perfectly, and thought her friend was in a rather good shape. “You know… Bruce is a one lucky sod – I mean, look at you, Mione,” Ginny said with an admiring look.

When Hermione glanced at her, Ginny winked back.

Hermione’s focus faltered, and her legs and back dropped down on the mat, “ _Ginny!_ ” She whispered hastily, looking around them while her cheeks tinged with red.

Ginny wanted to roll her eyes at her friend. No one was looking at them – and Ginny was rather sure that no one was even interested to hear their topics.

“It’s cute that you’re blushing at that,” Ginny said teasingly. “Is he a good kisser?”

Hermione spluttered before she cleared her throat and replied very quietly, “He is.”

Ginny sniggered. “And in… _other areas_?” She whispered knowingly.

Hermione’s focus faltered and she dropped down on the mat again, not looking at Ginny as she spoke primly. “I’m not answering that.”

Ginny sighed deeply. “Too bad. Your budding relationship is the only excitement that has happened to me in a long time.”

Hermione frowned at Ginny, not even trying to take the posture again. Their class was nearly ending, and both of them opted to lie on their mats, facing each other. “Have you talked to him about it? Now that he has started to open up a bit?”

Ginny wanted to let out a hysterical laugh. As if Harry was open enough to receive _that_ kind of request. No, they were still on a rocky ground, and Ginny simply had to let Harry direct the pace. She shook her head slightly at Hermione. “No. He’ll definitely run for the hills if I talk to him about intimacy.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “I think you have a good plan there – give him time. You probably know the best when to bring the subjects up.” She said and arched a brow at Ginny. “However, you’re still not getting any juicy details about my relationship.”

Ginny grinned. “So… there _are_ juicy details?”

“Ginny. Stop talking.”

* * *

After Pilates, Ginny decided to visit James, knowing he had a day off. The visit was long overdue – James had been avoiding her and Harry for a while now, even before the incident. Sure, Ginny had been in James’s every game but that was about it – James never stayed after the game to chat with her, and before the game he seemed too anxious to have a proper conversation. It had to stop. Ginny knew that even though Harry was getting better, he would need James’s support. And she was sure her son would need his father’s.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried before – she had! But there had been so many other, more pressing things to solve and figure out that she hadn’t been able to try hard enough. James had been slipping away slowly, and now she needed to pull him back where he belonged.

James opened the door after a brief wait and looked surprised. “Mum. Um. Didn’t know you were coming by…”

Ginny gave him a tight smile as they stood at the door in silence. “Can I come in?”

James blinked and shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” He moved aside to let Ginny in and then walked towards his sitting room while scratching the back of his head.

“Tea? Don’t really have anything else to offer since my grocery delivery was rescheduled for later tonight.” James said, standing next to his couch, looking a bit out of place.

Ginny shook her head and sat down in the armchair. “No, thank you. I’m good.”

She looked around briefly. The flat was like it had been the last time she had visited him – which had to be months ago. It was still as tidy and sparsely decorated as before, everything standing out as every furniture and cupboard was either black or white. It looked like James didn’t really spend time at home, or if he did, it was only to sleep and eat before he would return to Bodmin Moor.

“Can we talk?” She asked and turned her focus on him.

She studied his appearance and took notice how weary and downcast he looked. Ginny wondered if losing two games in a row was the reason for his glumness. She knew that while James _had_ lost some games during his short career in the team, the Magpies mostly won their games.

James cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure.” He sat down on the couch and lifted his brows at her. “What’s up?”

Ginny watched him closely. “Are you okay? You look… like you’re going through a hard time.”

“Mum…” James grunted, closing his eyes and looking strained.

“Is it the two last games? James – you have still won almost half of the –”

“Mum!”

Ginny fell silent and frowned as her son gritted his teeth and glared at the coffee table with a frustrated expression.

“I don’t wanna talk about Quidditch.” James said bluntly. “If that’s what you were here for, don’t –”

“It’s not,” Ginny interrupted him sharply and gave James a serious look. “It is your father.”

James groaned and looked away in annoyance, as if knowing what she was about to say.

“That is not the reaction I was expecting – nor it is something I will put up with,” Ginny said, exasperated. She waited until James looked back at her in surprise before she continued. “It is time you bury whatever the hell is lingering between you and him and be his son again – be there when he needs you!”

James blinked at her in disbelief but said nothing.

“I don’t know what happened to you.” Ginny said quietly and gave him a beseeching look. “What did he do to you?”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

James huffed. “He did nothing. Sound familiar?”

Ginny pursed her lips. She knew that Harry had been somewhat married to his job, especially the past few years before the incident. They both had been. She wondered if James resented his father – and her as well – about it, that they hadn’t been there as much as James would’ve wanted after he had graduated Hogwarts.

She sighed. “James. Is this about your father and me working long hours instead of being at home with you after your graduation?”

James narrowed his eyes slightly. “It’s not just after my graduation – It’s – I dunno – dad especially seemed to lost his interest in me the moment I chose to play professionally. Like it was some kind of punishment to him! As if his wife hadn’t been in the exact same position years ago!”

Ginny bit her lip and focused on James’s words. There was so much he didn’t understand, but so much what he did. She knew that Harry had been disappointed by James’s career choice, because she and he both remembered that the years Ginny had played with the Harpies had been the hardest for their relationship – at least, the hardest it had been before the incident. And they _had_ lived through a war, so that was saying a lot. But she also knew that Harry had got over it, and had been proud of James. He still was. He just hadn’t showed it to his son, which was definitely something Harry had to work on.

“James… I’m sorry you felt like that – and I’m sorry if he made it so obvious,” She said quietly, trying to find the right words. “It was hard for him, reliving the same things he had gone through when I played.”

James lifted his brows at her. “Why would it be hard for him? I’m not you.”

Ginny nodded slowly. “No, you’re not. But he – I suppose he was afraid _this_ would happen. He was afraid of losing you, like he almost lost me,” she explained, and James shook his head in irritation.

“This didn’t happen because of Quidditch.”

Ginny sighed. “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t _just_ because of Quidditch. But I also know that Quidditch has played its part in it. I know how it changes you – how you’re suddenly under the public’s watchful eye, surrounded by pressure and admiration.” she said and looked down on her lap, remembering exactly how she had changed during her Quidditch years.

She had become distant, not really caring about anything besides the game. Sure, she had had Harry and her family, and probably hadn’t strayed from them like she felt James now had, but she knew she hadn’t been the person she was before or who she was now. She still remembered how she and George had once had a late-night discussion during one of the winter breaks and how her brother had told her that he didn’t really like how she had turned out, and that he thought that it had been because of Quidditch. She had started to question herself after that. Her relationship with Harry had slowly started to get better, and then Harry had proposed her. And not long after, she had found out that she was expecting James.

James let out a disagreeing sound. “Are you actually saying the reason I’m ‘under the public’s eye’ is Quidditch?” He asked sceptically.

Ginny gave him a strained look. “Of course not.”

However, even though they were all somewhat famous and in public more than they wanted, she was sure Quidditch hadn’t really helped matters. She wondered if some of James escapades had happened if he had decided to pursue a different career for himself. And even if they had happened, she was sure not all of them would have ended up in the next day’s paper.

As she looked at James, she knew that the game and everything that came with it – the fame, the expectations, the pressure – had changed him like it had changed her.

There was a long silence, during which James looked firmly away, and Ginny thought about the best way to continue their discussion.

“He’s seeing a Mind Healer, you know…” Ginny said as she stared at James’s profile.

He stiffened slightly and glanced at her, curiosity in his expression. “He is?”

Ginny nodded and let out a weary sigh. “I’m not trying to guilt you into seeing him,” she said and paused as James gave him a very pointed look. “Well, perhaps I am a bit,” She added with a grimace, before continuing with a softer voice, “but he really _is_ trying now. And I think… I think he would really like to talk to you, James.”

James frowned at her and then looked down on the floor between them.

“Yeah, okay.” He said quietly.

Ginny was cheering inwardly. She smiled at James. “I’m glad to hear that. Are you still free next Sunday?”

James nodded mutedly. “I can swing by then.”

“Brilliant!” Ginny said and for the first time in a long while, she felt that everything was going to be all right. She knew there would be a lot of work to do – a lot of talking to be done – and that they wouldn’t be able to start over again with a clean slate before the past and all the complications had been addressed.

“I should go,” Ginny said, not sure if James was expecting her to leave or not. “Unless… you want to…?”

James gave her a quick shake of his head. “No, um, I was just, uh, thinking of going for run, actually…”

“Of course,” she said with a smile and stood up.

James followed her example and walked her to the door. “Good seeing you, mum.”

“You too, James. Oh, and I’ll be there on Friday – the Cannons match. Your brother too.” She said, knowing that Albus usually watched and reported the Friday matches. “And your uncle, most likely,” she said and rolled her eyes. Ron was undoubtedly going to be there, cheering for his favourite team. He probably hadn’t missed a single Cannons game after the war.

James smiled tensely. “Okay.”

She wanted to say more – that James shouldn’t worry so much, that the Cannons had lost every game so far, and even if the Magpies lost again, it wouldn’t matter. She wanted to tell him that she too had had her bad terms and games during her Quidditch years, and that it would get better. But James seemed so closed off suddenly, like he was expecting her to talk about Quidditch and like he definitely didn’t want to hear a word about it. So, instead she pulled him into a rather awkward hug – James remained mostly stiff during it – and then took a step back and waved at him before she disapparated with a soft ‘pop’.


	13. Albus

**Chapter 13: Albus**

**Friday, 5 December 2025**

Albus sat in a private stand that was reserved for the press, the match commentator and ministry officials from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. His Self-Writing Quill was set and charmed to take all the notes spoken by the commentator, while Albus would be making other notes into a separate notepad. After the game, he would go back to the office to put together a report for the next day's paper. Albus knew he could be facing a long night in the office, as the game was going to start at two in the afternoon, and there was always the possibility that it took several hours.

However, it was a routine now, after reporting so many games during the past year. The only thing that was bothering him somewhat, was the fact that his brother was going to play, and that Albus was expected to write an impartial report about the game. Previously, it hadn't been a problem, since James's team usually won their games and Albus rarely reported the Magpies' games in the first place. But now, the Magpies had lost two games in a row, and Albus knew it was partly because James had lost his touch. And if the Magpies lost again because James was playing poorly, how was Albus expected to report the game without writing his brother in a bad light?

It was something Albus had wanted to talk with Hugo earlier that week, knowing that his cousin usually had logical solutions to other people's problems. Albus had been sure that Hugo would know how Albus should prepare himself for his job. Perhaps they would've had time to chat about it if Albus hadn't brought up Rose and her date – a topic that seemed to make Hugo close up and send Albus away before he could say another word.

Albus sighed and thought about the previous Saturday, when he and Scorpius had met Rose and Nick at the pub. They had both looked somewhat surprised to see Albus and Scorpius, and it was obvious that Rose had wanted to leave because of them. After the couple had left, Scorpius had remained quiet and distant the rest of the night, and Albus hadn't needed to ask the reason for his friend's changed behaviour. He knew Scorpius still had feelings for Rose, and Albus had hoped for some time now that Scorpius would pull his head out of his arse and do something about it.

Albus wondered if it was too late now. He wondered, if Rose and Nick were a thing now, and if Nick was actually serious about Albus's cousin. Albus had never been close to Nick, but had known him through James – and had been in his company enough to know that Nick didn't really date anyone seriously, and instead had always seemed to want to keep himself open and free for possibilities. No, Albus didn't think that Nick had mislead anyone before and reckoned the bloke had always been clear from the beginning about his expectations.

But when it came to Rose, Nick already had history with her. The events of James's party from the end of the summer last year flickered to the forefront of his mind.

_"…James – shit – are you fucking kidding me?!" Albus hissed at his brother as he managed to pull him to the darkened hallway._

_Albus knew that no one paid them any attention, as their words were covered by the loud chatter, laughter and music that came from the sitting room, but he still looked around them quickly to check that they were alone._

_"Are you high?" He whispered as James tried to pull away from him. Albus gripped his arm tighter._

_James huffed. "Stop patronising me, mum." He said pointedly and squinted at Albus._

_Albus cursed under his breath as he saw the state of his brother's pupils. "You realise if any of this comes out, your bloody career is at stake?" Albus asked, or growled, more like._

_"Live a little, little brother," James said and then grinned._

_As Albus gritted his teeth, James placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Relax, brother. No one's gonna rat me out to the press. I trust everyone here," he said airily. "And besides, aren't you the brand-new reporter – I'm sure you can make any gossip disappear like that!" he said and snapped his fingers but then lost his footing and leaned heavily against Albus._

_James pushed back a bit and saw the exasperation in Albus's expression. "I'm fine, I promise. I'll stay home with all these incredibly amusing people and you don't have to worry about me tainting your last name," James said through a smile that looked as forced as his words sounded._

_Albus sighed and stared at his brother. "James, you're not – "_

_"POTTER!" Chuck yelled from the sitting room, interrupting Albus._

_James used the moment to pull away from his brother and gave him a meaningful look as he backed towards the sitting room. "Chill, brother. I intend to."_

_Albus swore inwardly. Bloody James. He knew there was nothing he could do about it, since James was an adult and made his own decisions, and – well – as long as James stayed home and could trust his friends and family, there was no danger of his behaviour leaking to the press._

_The press had been awfully interested about James, ever since the previous summer, after he had had a very successful year with the Magpies. Albus knew that during the previous summer, everything had been different, and that James had been different. He had been more focused on the game, even during the holidays, and had been…proud of being one of the star players in the team. He had wanted to be praised by his family. He had wanted to look good in public. Now, Albus felt like James was expecting everyone to be disappointed at him, and like he didn't care anymore if his behaviour was frowned upon. It was as if he thought it was expected of a Quidditch celebrity._

_During the summer, James had been in the headlines due to his questionable affairs with several different women and unexpected stunts, like for instance: disappearing without notice and appearing in France, where he had been on a display in the wizarding news and pictured obviously drunk at least in seven different bars. And Albus had already suspected that his brother had included recreational potions into his repertoire, but witnessing it was something of an eye opener._

_Albus was worried for James, but he didn't know what to do about it. He could only hope that the upcoming season would force his brother back in line, and make James quit all the stupidity he had been up to for the past two months._

_As Albus returned to the sitting room, he wasn't really surprised to see his brother lounging lazily in an armchair with Jess – one of his teammate's friends – on his lap, laughing with his friends who were sitting around them on the sofa and conjured chairs in mixed states of inebriation._

_Albus walked past the group as they started to recount some of the 'hilarious' exploits one of them had encountered during the summer, and made his way to the kitchen where his sister and most of his cousins were._

_It was a bit quieter in the kitchen without the music blaring in the room, but there was plenty of laughter and chatter instead. Hugo, Lucy and Lily were in a deep discussion at the other end of the table, while Dominique, Roxanne and Molly were talking – or grilling, more like – Scorpius's new girlfriend Mary at the other, closer to the kitchen door._

_"Where's Scor?" Albus asked as he sat down next to Mary and opposite to Dominique and Roxanne._

_He didn't really know Mary, but had met her several times during the summer, after she and Scorpius had started dating. Scorpius's fling with their classmate Brittany had ended soon after their graduation, and a week later, Mary had walked into the picture._

_Mary was a year younger than them, and would return back to Hogwarts with Hugo, Lucy, Lily and Louis in the beginning of next month. Mary, Hugo and Lucy were returning there for their last year, while Lily and Louis would start their sixth year._

_Mary gave him a small smile. "He went to the loo – I'm sure he'll be back in a bit..."_

_Dominique waved her hand, "Never mind him, I want to know more about you – has your mother worked long for the Wizengamot?" She asked with a glint in her eyes that Albus knew meant an unbearable need to gossip. Roxanne nodded eagerly next to Dominique, while Albus detected Molly actually rolling her eyes subtly at her cousins from Mary's other side._

_It was just the way his cousins were – mostly Dominique and Roxanne. Albus thought Dominique felt pressured by her parents who were famous and admired, and her sister who had done well after her graduation, and because of that Dominique was now desperate to make a name for herself. Albus thought Roxanne was merely following her cousin's example. He knew Roxanne's parents were more down to earth, but in the end, there was no way of knowing what was the reason for any of their behaviour, as Albus, his siblings and his cousins were all more or less entitled to feel pressured by their famous war-hero-parents and the expectations that came with their fame._

_However, Albus knew not all of his relatives were social climbers like Dominique, Roxanne and even Rose. For example, Hugo, who Albus thought was a decent bloke, trustworthy, funny and well-balanced, and –_

_"What the bloody hell I'm seeing?" Albus yelled sharply, his thoughts hitting a snag after witnessing his well-balanced and trustworthy cousin handing Albus's sixteen-year-old baby sister a drink of Firewhiskey._

_Everyone looked from Albus to Hugo, Lucy and Lily, who were staring back, two of them slightly red with embarrassment, and one scowling determinedly._

_Hugo grimaced. "Yeah, I told you," he said to Lily, who huffed and turned to Albus._

_"Al, please," she said with an eyeroll in her voice. "I'm sixteen, not a two-year-old. It's only a one drink – I'm sure you too have had your fair share of liquor before turning seventeen. Am I wrong?" She asked, her tone sharp and slightly menacing._

_Albus narrowed his eyes briefly at Roxanne, Dominique and Molly, who were all trying – and failing – to suppress their smirks and snorts. He arched a brow at his cousin at the other end of the table._

_Hugo lifted up his hands after seeing the warning in Albus's gaze. "Mate, she insisted. I'm sorry." He said quickly, and snatched the drink back from between Lily's fingers._

_"Bloody hell, Al," Lily seethed._

_Albus lifted his brows at his sister. "You'll stay out of alcohol, or you go home," he said simply. "That was the deal, Lily."_

_One inebriated sibling was enough for the night._

_Lily clenched her jaw and leaned back on her chair, her gaze at the table and her arms crossed against her chest. "Fine." She huffed._

_"Thank you for your cooperation, sister." Albus said with a honeyed tone._

_Lily sent him a glare. "No need to be a prick, Al." She huffed and then turned to Hugo, who was slightly cowering under her stare. "And you –" she huffed. "At least I know now who you're loyal to…"_

_Albus rolled his eyes at the scene: his sister wasn't being serious and they all knew that, but Hugo still took the lecture like a champion and apologised her more than once._

_"…And that is exactly why I told Louis he couldn't come," Dominique said with a hint of exasperation to no one specific, before resuming to talk about Ministry business with Mary._

_Albus had started to think if he ought to return to the sitting room since Ministry gossip didn't really interest him the slightest, when his best friend walked into the kitchen._

_"Hey, Scor," Albus said as Scorpius took a seat at the end of the table, between Roxanne and Albus._

_Scorpius nodded at Albus, but Albus thought that there was something amiss with his friend as he took a glass of Firewhiskey from the table and downed it in one gulp, glaring at the table as he put the glass back._

_The others were too focused on the story Mary was telling, about some Ministry official fraud or something of the sort, to notice Scorpius's ministrations._

_"You okay?" Albus asked quietly, leaning closer to his friend._

_Scorpius gave Albus a dark look. "I'm fine."_

_Albus nodded slowly, thinking that there could only be one reason for his friend's changed mood. Or one person, specifically. "You seen Rose?"_

_Scorpius's jaw tightened. Albus sighed inwardly, taking his friend's reaction as a yes._

_"So? What's going on?" Albus asked with a slight frown._

_When Scorpius didn't answer, but proceeded to pour himself another drink, Albus stood up from his seat and left the kitchen, deciding that he would ask about it from his cousin himself. Rose had obviously said something or done something to affect Scorpius's mood like that._

_He glanced at the sitting room and saw it still occupied by the same group: James and Jess in the armchair, Charlie, Zach, Chuck and Kara on the sofa, while Sam, Dylan, Mason, Blake and Fred sat on the chairs around them._

_Albus went to check the broom closet and the loo on the ground floor, but when he didn't see Rose, he quickly made his way upstairs._

_The upstairs guest bedroom was empty, as was the bathroom. Earlier in the evening Albus had seen Rose and Nick in the sitting room downstairs playing a drinking game mostly by themselves, and now that neither of them was nowhere to be seen, Albus had an inkling where to find them and what they were in the midst of. He sighed wearily as he walked towards James's room and pushed the door open._

_It was definitely not what he had been expecting to see._

_Rose was there, sitting on James's bed, accompanied by Nick, in midst of emptying her stomach on James's bedroom floor._

_"Bloody hell, Rose!" Albus shouted in surprise as his cousin puked her guts out._

_Nick grimaced at Albus and then at the floor._

_"What the hell is this?" Albus yelled, drawing up his wand and vanishing the disgusting puddle from the floor. "You know there's a bloody bathroom ten feet away!"_

_Rose swayed and drew her gaze up to meet Albus's. "Hey, Al," She croaked weakly._

_Albus gritted his teeth. "A word, mate," Albus said to Nick, who looked something between nauseated and drunk._

_Nick staggered up and walked to the doorway. "Alright, mate," He slurred._

_"Seen Scorpius around?" Albus asked from Nick with a blank voice. His gaze flickered to Rose to make sure she was okay, before he looked at Nick again. The bloke was positively pissed._

_Nick belched. "Nah," he said and grabbed Albus's shoulder in order to steady himself. "Look. Rose and I – we were just havin' a bit of fun, is all," He said, peering into Albus's eyes, before his face slowly twisted with nausea._

_Albus groaned inwardly, and practically pushed Nick towards the bathroom. "Do not fucking make a mess!" Albus growled as Nick stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, before violent sounds of retching echoed in the upstairs hallway._

_Albus walked back into the room and sat next to Rose, who looked like she was now half asleep, her eyelids drooping. "What were you doing in here? What did you say to Scorpius?"_

_Rose blinked slowly at him, and then shook her head sluggishly. "No – not – I was with…with Nick," she mumbled and hiccoughed. "…Should…should go home," she added and yawned. "Where's my wand…" She slurred and started to look around her._

_Albus sighed and stood up, knowing there was no use to start demanding answers from Rose when she was at that state. "Come on. I'll take you home."_

_He had a good suspicion what had happened before he had barged into the room, and if neither Rose nor Nick had even seen Scorpius, it could mean only one thing. They had been otherwise occupied._

_Albus was angry at his cousin, for being so bloody reckless, for being so…inconsiderate. Hadn't Scorpius been through enough? And what was she thinking, drinking like that and jumping at the first available wizard?_

_He took his cousin home and barely spoke to her on the way there, before returning back to the party, only to find out that Scorpius too had disappeared, and had left Mary there by herself. He hadn't even told her he had left home._

Albus hadn't really wanted to be in Rose's company for a while after the incident. He knew Rose had been hurt by Scorpius bringing Mary to the party, and Albus had assumed she had only wanted to make him jealous by hooking up with Nick. Albus had talked with Scorpius some weeks after the party, and his friend had confessed that at the party, seeing Rose with someone else, Scorpius had realised that he wasn't going to get back together with Rose, and that he hadn't known what to think then – and thus had bailed on everyone.

Later on, Albus had wondered if he had been wrong about the night – that Rose hadn't been trying to shove Nick on Scorpius's face, and that, perhaps, Rose hadn't really thought about Scorpius when she had spent time with Nick. He had wondered, if Rose had been equally hurt by seeing Scorpius with another woman than Scorpius evidently had been when he had seen Rose and Nick.

Albus hadn't really spoken to Rose about his thoughts, or apologised for that matter that he had basically taken his best friend's side without a second thought and had taken some distance to her, but it seemed that Rose had accepted him back to her life without a doubt when Albus had started to get closer to her again.

"If it isn't my favourite nephew!" Albus's uncle Ron called from behind him, pulling Albus back to present from his thoughts.

Albus turned on his seat and stood up to greet his uncle and mother, before gesturing at the two free seats next to him. His uncle was dressed from head to toe in bright orange – the Chudley Cannons' colours. He had a spring in his step and a wide grin on his face even though it was rather certain his favourite team was going to finish bottom of the year's league – which would happen even if they won the game against the Magpies.

Albus's mother was dressed like most of the crowd – in black and white. He wondered, if she had missed any of James's games during his three-year career with the Magpies. He reckoned not.

They chatted a bit before the game started, and Albus was glad to hear that his father was doing better. He made a mental note to go see him on the weekend and spend some time with him. His uncle told him about the latest tricks and about Jasmine, Albus's youngest cousin. He knew it was too long since the last time he had seen the girl, and knew he ought to visit them sometime soon.

* * *

"Quite the game, eh?" Albus's uncle said when Albus returned back to his mother and uncle after having a quick chat with the Daily Prophet photographer.

He had viewed some of the photos and pre-selected a few for his article, and agreed to meet with him at the office later on.

Albus hummed in agreement at his uncle as he glanced over the pitch – most of the crowd had already left – and felt his phone vibrate for what felt like the hundredth time during the past thirty minutes.

The Magpies had won – barely, thanks to their Seeker and their lousy opponents – but it hadn't been something that Albus had had any pleasure to watch. James hadn't scored any goals, and hadn't been able to hold the Quaffle for more than ten seconds each time the other Chasers served him. Which, in Albus's opinion, hadn't happened more than three times during the whole two-hour game. There was definitely something going on between the Chasers, and Albus wondered if it was something to do with the party last month, where James, Chuck and Oliver had had a sort of falling out at the end of the night.

He let out a sigh and flicked his wand to gather his notes and quills before shoving them into his bag, and dug up his phone from his pocket.

"What's up, Gin?" Ron asked suddenly, the concern in his voice drawing Albus's attention to his mother.

Albus's mother was staring at a letter that had been delivered to her by a small white owl only moments before. He glanced at his phone as it buzzed again, in order to shut it, but a message in the screen made him blink at the device.

" _Merlin!"_ Albus's mother said quietly.

Albus and Ron both looked at her.

She lifted her gaze up from the parchment, grinning widely.

"Well?" Albus's uncle asked impatiently, looking between the letter and his sister's face. "What is it?"

Albus stared at his mother, and then looked at his phone, presuming both of them had been given the same news. "Molly's had a baby."

Albus's mother nodded and let out an excited laugh, while Albus's uncle grinned and muttered, "Blimey!"

As his mother and uncle started to chat about the addition to the family, Albus quickly went through the messages he had received from his different family members. It appeared that some of them were already in the hospital, waiting to meet Molly, John and their baby. Rose in particular, seemed _very_ excited about the matter.

"…Al?" His mother inquired.

Albus blinked at her, realising he had missed something she had said. "Yeah?"

"I said, could you go and get James? And ask him to come to the hospital with us?" She asked, chewing the corner of her lips. She looked hesitant, as if she wasn't sure if James would even agree to come.

"Yeah. Sure," Albus muttered and took his belongings before leaving the stand, his mother and uncle following his example.

On the ground level, they agreed that Albus's mother and uncle would already leave towards the hospital, and that Albus and James would meet them there. As Albus made his way to the building where he knew the team's lockers were, he couldn't stop wondering what was going on between his mother and brother, and why had his mother practically run away and asked Albus to communicate with James.

After reaching his destination and nodding at the assistant manager guarding the doors, Albus walked inside and along the hallway before stopping in the middle of it, in front of the men's locker room. He was about to call for his brother, hoping he was still there considering it was already some time after the game had ended, when he heard heatedly spoken words through the door.

"…that's a bit too late, isn't it James?"

Albus frowned and looked around him. The hallway was empty, and he didn't hear any other voices. He wondered if everyone else had already left.

"Oliver, please…" James said quietly, and Albus thought he sounded a bit…desperate.

Albus licked his lips, wondering if he ought to leave and wait outside, when Dean – one of the beaters – barged into the hallway from outside and ran towards the locker room.

"Hey, mate." He greeted, panting slightly. "Forgot my bag…" He said and pushed the locker room door open, revealing James and Oliver in the middle of the room, staring at the incomer.

James and Oliver both nodded at Dean, and then noticed Albus, as the door had been left wide open by Dean.

"Al?" James asked, a frown forming between his brows.

Oliver cleared his throat and proceeded to grab his bag and walked away from the locker room, nodding at Albus as he walked past him.

"It's Molly," Albus said. Dean slammed his locker closed and gave a nod to both James and Al before rushing away along the hallway.

James's brows lifted up. "What about her?"

"She's had a baby. Mum asked me to get you… to the hospital." Albus said and took in James's features. "You okay?" He added.

James looked tired and disappointed. "Is everything all right with, um, Wright?" Albus asked hesitantly.

"Everything's fine." James said forcefully. "I'm really not in the mood, brother…I'd rather go home." he grumbled and went further in the room to throw his things into his bag.

Albus stepped inside the locker room and frowned at his brother. "Can you forget your sodding arse for thirty minutes and see your bloody cousin and _then_ go home to sulk?" Albus asked airily.

James scowled at him.

"Hey, just a suggestion." Albus said and pushed his hands to his pockets. "And, you know… It would mean a lot to other people."

James clenched his jaw and briskly closed his bag. He took in a steadying breath. "Fine." He said wearily, not looking at Albus. "I'll make an appearance."

* * *

Most of Albus's extended family was there, waiting in the reception area on the sixth floor – the Magical maternity and Ancient remedies department – where they were divided into groups. His mother and Fleur were sitting in the corner with Albus's grandparents in mid-discussion. Albus's uncles Ron, Bill and George were standing close to the door that lead to the ward, laughing quietly, while Rose, Dominique, Roxanne and Fred were sitting at a couple of round tables opposite to what looked like a secretary's counter in the middle of the room.

Behind the counter there was a grumpy looking witch, who was watching the crowd warily. Albus briefly wondered if all of them would even be let in to see Molly, and why all of them even had to be there – it was as if they didn't see the baby now, they would, what, lose the chance forever?

Albus greeted everyone who glanced at him and James with a collective nod, before making his way towards his cousins in the middle of the room.

"Quite the turnout," Albus said lightly as he sat next to Rose.

James took a seat opposite to him, between Fred and Dominique. Roxanne sat across Dominique, on Rose's other side.

Rose hummed in agreement. "I know… I'm glad mum and Hugo are popping by later – I mean, Molly must be exhausted… I hope she has the strength to see us all."

Albus looked around the waiting room, wondering if his father was going to make an appearance or not.

"I bloody well hope she'll see us, after being dragged in here," Dominique muttered and gave a withering look towards her mother and then looked at the others, her features softening a bit, "Of course I _want_ to see Molly and the baby, but I could've come to see them, say, tomorrow? Next week? Like Vic and Ted were allowed to do," She said and sighed.

Roxanne shrugged. "Well, Uncle Percy, Audrey, Lucy and John's parents and his sister are there now, so I assume we'll know soon enough. And besides, Vic probably wants to ask all the gruesome details about the labour, and she's too courteous to do that in front of us," Roxanne added, sniggering slightly.

Albus grimaced. He hadn't really needed the information that gruesome was a word that could be used when describing giving birth.

Rose huffed a laugh and elbowed him. "Relax, Al… I promise not to ask any _gruesome_ details about the labour as long as you're in the room. Anything to preserve your innocence." she said teasingly.

The others around the table laughed.

Albus narrowed his eyes at her. "How's it going with Nick?" He asked pointedly, knowing that his cousins would grab that piece of gossip like a drowning man would grab at a dangling rope.

Dominique's eyes widened. " _Nick?!"_ She whispered urgently, quickly leaning closer towards Rose.

" – When did that happen?" Roxanne asked a second after her cousin, mirroring her as she too leaned towards Rose.

"What now?" James asked sharply, a deep frown between his brows as he looked between Albus and Rose.

Albus cringed inwardly. Apparently James hadn't known that one of his best mates was dating his cousin.

Rose seethed, glaring at Albus. "Thanks for that!" She whispered furiously, before looking at the others with a strained look.

"Um. Yeah. We're dating," Rose said tightly.

"Since when?" James asked bluntly.

Fred sniggered, "Really, Rosie?"

" – How did _you_ and _Nick_ become a thing?" Asked Dominique with a wide smirk on her lips.

Rose gave her a blank stare.

"What is that supposed to mean?" James asked from her, looking between Dominique and Rose.

Rose let out a frustrated sigh and looked around the waiting room. Albus too looked: his mother and Rose's father were both watching their table with curious expressions.

"I'm not saying another thing!" Rose hissed as she turned back to their table, crossing her arms against her chest. She scowled at Albus. "And I'll remember this, Al," She practically growled.

Both James and Dominique opened their mouths to argue, but then the door to the ward opened.

"It's a healthy boy!" Percy exclaimed, looking happy beyond recognition. "I'm a grandfather!" He added excitedly before he was pulled into a bear-hug by his brother George.

Rose's relationship gossip was soon forgotten as everyone watched the proud new grandparents being congratulated.

Lucy rushed towards their table. "Oh Godric, you should see him!" She squealed, smiling widely. "He's _so_ precious! Can you believe it?! I'm an _aunt!"_

They listened to Lucy ramble on about the baby and her sister, before John came to see everyone in the ward and asked if Rose and Molly's other cousins could come and meet the baby next. Apparently they weren't all allowed to barge into the small room, which only made sense to Albus.

* * *

A half an hour later, Albus slipped away from the hospital room with James and Fred after giving their last congratulations to John and Molly, while Roxanne and Dominique were still swooning over the baby, who was being held by his godmother Rose.

"You're leaving already?" Albus's mother asked as they stepped back into the waiting room.

Fred went to talk to his father, where the rest of their relatives were gathered into a large group.

Albus shrugged. "Yeah. I have, uh, work," he said and glanced at James who was standing next to him.

Their mother eyed James for a moment before she spoke. "James? We'll still see you on Sunday, right?"

Albus's brows lifted slightly as he looked between his mother and brother.

"Yeah, sure."

She smiled at him and then at Albus, "You're always welcome too, Al."

Albus nodded, "Yeah, no, I actually have plans…"

She looked a bit disappointed but smiled all the same.

"So… see you," James muttered to them both before starting to make his leave.

Albus's mother stared at James's retreating back while she chewed the inside of her cheek. She let out a sigh and turned her focus on Albus. "How are you, dear?" She asked, pulling a smile to her lips. It was a bit strained around the edges. "We didn't get to chat much during the game."

"Why is James coming on Sunday?" Albus asked, forgoing subtlety. "And why didn't you ask him to the hospital yourself?"

His mother blinked at him, before her shoulders sagged a bit. "I asked him to come by… to talk to your father. And – after the game, I was just – well – trying to give him some space."

"Oh." Albus said and nodded slowly. "Well, that's good, isn't it? I mean, that he's coming by?"

She eyed Albus quietly before she spoke. "I hope so. Has he said anything to you? Have you talked with him?"

Albus shook his head. "No. Not since my birthday. I suppose he's having some issues in the team, but I dunno for sure…" He said, his voice trailing off as he thought about the incident between Wright and James at the bar, and how stiff their interactions had been on and off the pitch.

His mother sighed wearily. "I wish he'd talk to us. I'm sure we could help him somehow…"

"Mum," Albus said placatingly. "He'll come around, he always has. There's only one game left and then he'll have a break. Perhaps that'll help."

At least, that was what Albus hoped would do the trick. He wondered, if he ought to have a chat with James, to see what really was going on with his brother, and decided that if James didn't agree to spend time with Albus before the next week's match, he wouldn't take no for an answer after the game.

As his mother's worry seemed to decrease a bit by Albus's words, he cleared his throat and nodded at the door to the ward. "You should go see Molly," he said with a small smile. "I'm afraid I have to go to work."

She smiled at him and pulled him into a warm embrace. "Oh, Al. Never change, will you?" She said quietly against his neck.

Albus smiled and waved at her before leaving the waiting room and entering the staircase.

As soon as he closed the door to the staircase behind him, someone spoke.

"Well, hello there."

Albus whirled around to look behind him. "Oh! Hey."

It was Scarlett. Albus gave her a once over. She was wearing pink robes with the familiar emblem embroidered on her chest: a wand and bone, crossed.

"Are you working today –"

" – What are you doing in here?"

They had both spoken at the same time. Scarlett smirked.

"Oh, no. I'm just stealing some robes. I reckon I look rather fetching in these," She said airily, clutching a pair of clipboards between her fingers.

Albus huffed in amusement, knowing she was evidently taking the piss. "I you say so," he said. "My cousin had a baby."

Scarlett blinked at him. "Oh? Already? I thought – well, it _is_ December already, so it was expected," She rambled and shrugged. "Is Rose still here?" She asked and then let out a mocking sniff. "The bloody witch didn't say anything even though she knew I'd be here the whole day."

Albus nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Shame on her to think of someone else than you."

Scarlett let out a quiet laughter. Albus smiled at her.

He glanced at the timepiece on his wrist. Bloody hell, it was already half eight in the evening, and he still had to write the report for the next day's paper.

"I should go. Work," Albus said with a small lift of his brows.

Scarlett gave him an understanding look. "Yeah, same." She said and brandished the clipboards in the air. "I'm actually heading down, so…" She said and made a beeline towards the stairs.

"Oh. Yeah." Albus said slowly and followed her lead.

They were silent for a while as they descended the stairs. "I thought you worked only Tuesdays and Thursdays?" Albus asked, remembering that Rose had mentioned the bit of information more than once.

"And Monday nights." Scarlett added and grimaced. "It's a bit… understaffed in here, so I'm taking an extra shift…"

"Yeah? You seen Hugo around?" Albus asked as they reached the landing.

Scarlett shook her head. "Weirdly, no. I do visit the Emergency sometimes, but I assume he's always been with a patient. And, well, I suppose he rarely takes breaks, so there's that…"

Albus listened silently and wondered, not for the first time, if his cousin was all right. It seemed that Hugo worked long days in the hospital, and perhaps even more than necessary.

"Well, I'm off here," Scarlett said as they reached the fourth floor, and the door that said _Permanent Spell Damage and Blood Curses department._ "Later!"

Albus gave her a smile and a wave, before taking off.


	14. Hugo

**Chapter 14: Hugo**

**Saturday, 6 December 2025**

Hugo woke up early on Saturday morning, feeling restless – like he had slept too much, even though he knew he hadn't. He had barely got five hours of sleep last night, after working late again at St Mungo's. He showered and got dressed, knowing that he needed something… perhaps half a dose of Calming Draught to ease up the feeling of being on the edge before he could go back to the hospital.

Last night, most of his family had been at the hospital to see Molly and her baby, but Hugo hadn't had the time to go see them. He also hadn't really wanted to go there, as he had been in the middle of a rather long shift and reckoned it wouldn't go unmentioned by his family. After all, it seemed to be a recurring subject during whenever Hugo met any of his family members. Hugo knew there would be plenty of opportunities to see Molly and the baby during the weekend, or perhaps after they had gone home.

He was so deep in thought as he stepped into the kitchen, that he didn't realise at first that it was already occupied. By his mother and Bruce, who were busy exchanging a passionate snog against one of the counters.

"Bloody hell." Hugo grunted, staring at the pair that was quickly dislodging from each other, taken by surprise.

"Hugo!" His mother squeaked, brushing her lips with the back of her hand while her face reddened. "I didn't realise you'd be up yet!"

Bruce cleared his throat and looked down to suppress a grin before he turned to look at Hugo. "Good morning, Hugo."

Hugo blinked and then moved past them, towards the coffee pot. "…Dunno if I agree with the good part…" he said lightly, and as he glanced at Bruce, the man gave him an apologising shrug.

Bruce retreated to the kitchen island and opened the morning paper, while Hugo's mother came to lean next to him as he made himself coffee.

"Did you go see Molly yesterday?" She asked curiously, her eyes moving over his frame.

Hugo shook his head. "Didn't have the time. Might go today," he said and glanced at her. "I thought you went, though?"

His mother pursed her lips. "I didn't want to intrude – I assume most of the clan was there the moment they got the message?"

Hugo shrugged. "Probably."

She gave him a smile and then her expression sobered somewhat. "Hugo? Are you all right?" She asked carefully, and then reached out to trail a hand through his hair, like she always did.

Hugo suppressed a flinch. His skin felt like needles. He really, _really_ needed something to make it go away.

"Yeah, I am," he said, almost breathlessly. "Gotta go to, um –" He had planned to say 'work', but as he didn't remember what his mother had told Bruce about it, he wasn't sure how to continue. He gave her a pointed look, and his mother nodded quickly.

"Of course! You have your _study group!"_ She said, rather too loudly.

Hugo arched a brow at her. Bruce lifted up his gaze from the paper at the sound but then returned back to read the article.

"I'm sorry," Hugo's mother mouthed. She then frowned at him. "Do you need to go?" She asked quietly. "You were, um, studying awfully late yesterday…"

Hugo reckoned they really ought to have had a chat about what to say in front of Bruce before he started to spend so much of his time at their place.

"Yeah. I do," He said simply. "I'll be home tomorrow, though," he added after seeing the disappointment in her expression. He turned his focus back to the coffee, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under her scrutinising stare. Hugo poured the drink into a large mug before taking a seat at the island next to Bruce.

"So," Bruce said and put the paper down before turning slightly towards Hugo. "Study group?" He asked, and then chuckled. "I remember having those, back in my day," he said and looked away, into the distance, before shaking his head slightly and looking at Hugo again. "However, we didn't wake up at seven on Saturday morning to study – and I would say the same about most of my students," he said and winked.

Hugo gave him a tight smile, hoping that Bruce wouldn't stick too closely on what Hugo was 'studying'. "What do you teach?" He asked, knowing that Bruce was a physics professor, but that was about it. They hadn't really discussed Bruce's work on a more detailed level.

"Quantum Physics," Bruce said and went on with an explanation about particles that make up matter and the forces with which they interact.

However tiring it was to keep up a façade in front of Bruce, Hugo was still grateful of it, since it definitely prevented his mother to ask more about Hugo's apprenticeship in front of the man, and worry about the hours he was doing in the hospital.

After finishing his coffee, Hugo slipped away from the kitchen with his excuses and went upstairs in order to grab a vial of much needed calming draught from the locked wardrobe in his mother's room.

It wasn't solely forbidden, for him to go there – the only reason their potions were in a locked wardrobe, was because of Bruce. Before Bruce came into the picture, they had had them in one of their bathroom cabinets. Still, going into his mother's bedroom, made Hugo feel a bit squeamish, especially while she was unaware and sitting downstairs.

He flicked his wand to open one of the wardrobes and took a small vial of the turquoise blue potion before spelling the wardrobe locked once more, hoping she wouldn't be too bothered that he had been there without informing her.

* * *

Several hours later, Hugo was picking his cuticles and fingernails, nearly drawing blood. His skin felt like it was crawling with ants, and he hadn't had a break in Merlin knew how long. He was in a desperate need of a breather, but it seemed that every time he was about to retreat to the break room, he was interrupted by someone – a patient or a family member who needed help, or someone from the staff.

This time it had been Healer Sanders, who had stopped Hugo on the staircase to compliment him on bringing books to one of his patients, Olivia Parker.

"…apparently, she is now quite obsessed by muggle physics, can you imagine?" Sanders asked with a light chuckle.

Hugo cleared his throat and gave him a tight smile. "Brilliant," he said and glanced at the stairs, knowing he had only twenty or so minutes before he was expected to be back in the Emergency ward on the ground floor.

Sanders then started to explain how she had spoken about nothing else but physics and 'that Trainee Healer' two days straight after Hugo had seen her, and how she was now excited to read more about the Condensed Matter – or at least, that was what Sanders thought she had said.

As he spoke, Hugo thoughts went into the last time he had substituted Sanders, and he wondered, when had been the last time he had taken anything stronger than a mild Calming Draught his mother stored in her wardrobe.

Sanders then inquired if Hugo had more of those books that could interest her, and told him that Ms Parker's mood had really brightened, and that Sanders would like to keep it that way.

"Um. Yeah. I'll – I'll see what I can do," Hugo said absently, knowing that he needed to focus, that he couldn't go on like that and finish his shift while his thoughts kept shooting into different directions.

"…are you okay?" Sanders asked from Hugo, a small frown between his brows.

Hugo blinked at him. "Yeah. Yeah. Just. Didn't sleep well last night, and I'm out of Pepper-Up," he said quickly, a plan already forming in the back of his head. "Long shift," he said wearily.

Sanders gave him a thoughtful look. "You know what? Tell Mrs Baker downstairs that I sent you to retrieve a couple of bottles from the potions cellar, will you?" He said and winked.

Hugo gave him a grateful smile, while his tongue tasted like ash, and his throat was dry. "Okay. Cheers, Healer –"

" – Just Sanders." Sanders muttered with a nod and moved to the side to allow Hugo a route downstairs.

Hugo nodded. "Of course."

He started to walk briskly downstairs, while Sanders spoke behind him, his voice somewhat humorous. "And don't forget the books. My poor patient is counting on you!"

Hugo glanced at him as he turned to take another flight of steps downstairs. "Will do."

He was going to be in such a fucking trouble if anyone realised what he was doing.

After telling Mrs Baker – one of the secretaries on Hugo's floor – that he was sent by Healer Sanders to retrieve potions from the cellar, the witch merely gave him a charmed key and told him to return it when his break was over.

When Hugo reached the potions cabinet in the cellar, he let out a long, relieved breath. Finally – something he could take to remove the urge to scratch his eyeballs off. Something, that would make him focused on his job, like he was supposed to be.

He took two vials – Draught of Peace and Wideye Potion – which he downed quickly. He vanished the vials and took deep breaths as his pulse slowed down and the room spun slightly around him. He felt his blood rushing in his veins, he felt everything black and murky in his mind clear away and be replaced with blankness and focus. Hugo blinked and the room sharpened around him. Everything was more vibrant, the colours, the sounds, but in the midst of that, he felt calm, and his mind was more concentrated than it had been during the whole day.

Hugo knew it would last only so long, and knew that by next morning – when he would be at home – the effects would be gone, and be replaced by dizziness and anxiety. He knew it would come, and he would be ready for it. The next day – his day off – would be hell. But he would take it. He was in control. However, he wouldn't be ready for the next shift he would have, from Monday morning to Tuesday morning, including his apprenticeship hours, and thus he took two more vials from the shelf and pocketed them, before exiting the room.

* * *

Later that night, after making a quick stop on Molly's room to greet her and the baby, Hugo made his way on the fourth floor.

"So, I heard I have a new admirer?" Hugo said as he stepped into Ms Parker's ward and saw her in her usual chair in the otherwise empty sitting room.

Ms Parker snorted. "Doubtful."

Hugo walked further into the room and stopped next to the coffee table, where the books he had brought her earlier lay neatly next to each other. "Finished all, already?"

Ms Parker gave him a smirk. "Five days _could be_ a rather short time to read a children's book with less than two hundred pages for some people, I'll give you that," she said and shrugged.

"Cut the crap. I know you've read all three, and that you're practically obsessed by muggle literature by now." Hugo said and pressed his lips together to suppress a grin.

"Oh?" Ms Parker said and sat straighter in her armchair. "So…not _you_ I was admiring, after all?"

Hugo smiled at her. "Well, I never said _that…_ "

"Whatever," Ms Parker said with an amused huff. "You've got more for me?"

Hugo's smile turned into a grin. "I might. My mum's a professor and dating a muggle physics professor, if that's the sort of thing you're into," he said and at her arched brow and the mischievous glint in her eyes, he quickly continued, "I meant – that one of them is bound to have more literature you're interested in."

Ms Parker sniggered. "Well, now that you've mentioned it, I _am_ rather curious how that is working out with her – I assume she's a witch?"

Hugo shrugged and perched down on the arm of the sofa, opposite to her armchair. "Yeah. She's a muggleborn though." When he saw her fighting back a grin, he huffed. "Which I assume you knew already, since you probably know exactly who she is and who I am…"

"Right you are," She said lightly and looked at the books, her eyes moving over them with a contemplative look.

"He doesn't know, though." Hugo said, not really knowing why he was telling her details about his personal life. Perhaps because she had asked. "It's been… interesting, at least," he said and shook his head in mild amusement as he thought about the morning and what he had witnessed when barging into the kitchen. "I live with her. And he's there, _all the time._ "

Ms Parker grimaced. "So… you just – don't use magic around him? How do you manage to come here every day then? What does he think you do?"

"He thinks I'm a med student," Hugo said simply. "We don't apparate in and out of the house – didn't even do it before my mum started dating him…"

Ms Parker looked curious. "Oh? Why?"

Hugo shrugged. "Mum wants to live a muggle life, I suppose."

"Wow. That's… intriguing."

Hugo gave her a bewildered look. "Why?"

Ms Parker hummed thoughtfully and looked away. "I dunno. It just is… I think I've never heard of anyone who wouldn't want to use magic after discovering they can. You know?" She asked and gave him a small smile.

"Yeah…" Hugo said quietly and stared at his favourite childhood book, remembering how his mother had always held tight on his and Rose's muggle heritage, by making sure to teach them as much as possible about muggle history and culture. It was a bit odd, sometimes, that Hugo and Rose were far more aware of the muggle side of things than James, Albus and Lily were – even though they also had a parent who had been raised by muggles.

"I suppose she missed it, the simplicity of a muggle life," Hugo said thoughtfully, even though knowing that his mother's life was anything but simple.

He knew it was always going to be difficult to her, if she wanted to live a muggle life and have muggles around her. Because it wasn't like she could completely disregard the wizarding life and the people in it. They would always be a part of her.

Ms Parker nodded. "I understand that, though. I can't even imagine what it was like for her to step into a completely new world and end up straight away in the middle of a fight…and after all that, to become a celebrity in said world…" She said and her smile became tight around the edges. "I can imagine the want to have some normalcy in one's life…"

Hugo watched her silently. "You never went to Hogwarts?" He asked, although he already knew she hadn't. He knew Ms Parker had been home schooled by her relatives, after being diagnosed at the age of nine.

She gave him a strained look. "I think you already know I didn't."

When Hugo merely nodded, she continued, "I was home schooled by my grandmother. My parents died when I was young, and she raised me."

"I'm sorry," Hugo said quietly, watching her closely.

Ms Parker smiled softly, and looked away, out of the windows, into the darkness. "It was a long time ago. I don't really remember my parents."

"And your grandmother? Is she…?" Hugo started, not really knowing how to politely ask if she was still alive. He thought she wasn't, since Ms Parker didn't have any visitors.

She gave Hugo a mirthless smile. "She's in a wizarding nursing home. Doesn't remember me."

_Bloody hell_ , Hugo thought and frowned at her as he felt a pang of pity. "I'm – "

"Don't," Ms Parker said sharply, interrupting him. She gave him a hard look. "I don't want to talk about it. About her."

"Of course," Hugo said quickly. He wondered how long she had been alone, knowing that she had been at the hospital for a little over a year. How long had she lived by herself before ending up in the hospital?

There was a long and tense silence, and Hugo knew their discussion revolving around Ms Parker's parents and grandmother had somewhat dampened her mood. He tried to disregard the pity he felt for her, for having such a life – perhaps not all of it had been terrible, but her last years certainly seemed to have been – and tried to remember what Sanders had spoken to him about the branch of physics Ms Parker had been raving about.

"So, um, condensed matter?" Hugo asked and drew her out of her deep thoughts.

Ms Parker blinked at him, and then let out a laugh, evidently relieved by the change of topic. "You should've seen Sanders's face when I told him about it. Didn't have a clue what I was saying. For a moment, I thought he would call in the psych consultant," she said brightly and sniggered. "However, I can't believe I haven't read about that before! I mean, how have I been able to disregard something so interesting! Like, the solid and liquid phases and the macroscopic and microscopic properties and…"

Hugo didn't really register the rest, as he was more focused on the sudden brightness in her gaze and the curve on her mouth as she spoke nearly non-stop. He wondered if she had been waiting for someone to talk to about physics and her obvious interest in the subject. So, he let her speak and nodded as he listened her going on and on about solids and liquids, deciding that he would go to the library next day to retrieve more books for her to read.

After a long discussion – where Ms Parker had done most of the talking – Hugo told her he ought to be going, as it was getting late.

"Oh! Of course." Ms Parker said, and grimaced. "I hope you're not going to be in trouble, for staying so long in here during your shift. I mean, I know Sanders mentioned that there's a bit of an understaffing situation going on…"

Hugo smiled at her. "Yeah, there is. Um. I actually ended my shift before I came to see you, so…no. Not going to be in trouble for that."

Ms Parker gave him a long look. "That's… kind of you." She said slowly.

"So, Ms Parker," Hugo said and stood up. "I'll probably come by on Monday again," he said and picked up the books from the coffee table.

"Olivia."

Hugo blinked at her, clutching the books in his hands. "Huh?"

Ms Parker looked at the table before slowly looking up at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It's Olivia. If you don't mind…" She said, unsurely.

"Oh. Of course." Hugo said quickly, and then cleared his throat. "Olivia."

She nodded slowly, and gave him an expectant look. Hugo frowned at the books and then looked back at her, feeling a mix of lightness and confusion mingling in the bottom of his stomach. "And, uh. You can call me Hugo," he said and gave her a tight-lipped smile. "At least… at least whenever I'm not treating you," he added quickly.

Olivia inclined her head. "Of course." She said softly.

Hugo was somewhat taken aback by the change in her demeanour. What had been aloofness and sharpness and irony, had now transformed into enthusiasm, uncertainness and delicacy. It seemed that she wasn't on guard anymore, but more… curious and open than before.

He rather liked the change.


	15. Rose

**Chapter 15: Rose**

**Friday, 12 December 2025**

“He looks just like the perfect mix of the both of you,” Rose whispered, aiming her words at Molly and John, even though her eyes were glued at the small baby in her arms.

They sat in the sitting room, with Rose and the baby in an armchair, while Molly and John sat opposite to her on the sofa. It was already dark outside, even though it wasn’t yet five in the afternoon.

“You are so cute, did you know that?” Rose asked softly from the baby, who was sleeping peacefully, evidently not registering a thing that was going on around him.

Molly smiled. “He definitely looks more like John than me…”

It was nearly a week after Molly had given birth to baby Jackson. Everything had gone well, and the family had been discharged from the hospital on Saturday evening. Now the fresh parents were getting used to the magnificent change in their lives that happened to be the small and innocent bundle resting in Rose’s arms, and the fact that _everyone_ wanted to see him.

“How many visitors have you had?” Rose asked, feeling amused by the grimace exchanged between Molly and John. “So…many?” She asked with a snigger.

John chuckled. “Yep. It’s fine, though – it’ll settle down when everyone has seen him, I reckon…”

“Which ought to be any day now,” Molly grumbled and sat up straighter on the sofa. “Tea?” She asked from Rose.

John gave her a kiss on her cheek and stood up from beside her. “I’ll handle it,” he said and winked at them.

Rose and Molly grinned at each other.

“So…” Molly asked quietly after John had retreated to the kitchen. She watched Rose with a twinkle in her eyes. “What’s this I hear about a certain wizard called _Nick_?”

Rose’s cheeks flushed lightly. “Dominique?” She asked tightly, pursing her lips at Molly, who was biting back a grin.

“Who else?” Molly said with an eyeroll in her voice. “No, seriously. I’m glad. If you’re happy, I mean,” she said softly.

Rose nodded slowly, trailing a finger against Jackson’s smooth cheek. “I think I am.”

“You think?” Molly asked curiously.

Rose frowned slightly, and thought what had happened the previous day at the coffee shop. When she had met Scorpius and talked with him after a long while.

_“Hey, Rose, you mind being in the front for a while?” Scarlett asked as she came to the storage room, where Rose had been in the midst of making inventory. “I’m not feeling well… I think I should sit down for a while.”_

_Rose gave her friend a worried look. “Do you need to go home to rest? It’ll probably be slow for the rest of the day, so I’m more than okay with that…”_

_Scarlett waved her off, “No, no. I’ll be fine in a minute.”_

_“Okay… if you’re sure…” Rose muttered hesitantly, and stood up from the floor where she had been sitting, surrounded by boxes of coffee grains and other items. She brushed her hands over her work attire, smoothing down the fabric before making her way into the front of the coffee shop._

_It was otherwise empty, except for one person. Scorpius was there, leaning against the counter and reading the menu on the back wall with a curious expression on his face._

_Rose was taken aback. What was he doing there? Had he asked Scarlett if he could see Rose? It seemed like that to her. Rose cursed Scarlett in her mind as her friend hadn’t given even a hint of warning to her._

_“Hey, Rose.” Scorpius said coolly when he noticed her, and then gave her a tentative once over. “How are you?”_

_Rose blinked. “Um. Great. I’m fine. And. Um. And you?” She stammered, feeling utterly bewildered. What the hell was Scorpius doing there, asking how she was doing?_

_“I’m doing well, thank you.” He replied cordially._

_She walked closer to him, on the other side of the counter, and remembered that she was in fact working. “Would you like some coffee or tea?” She asked politely._

_Scorpius cleared his throat and glanced around them. “Uh. Sure. Tea would be great.” He said, and Rose was somewhat relieved to see that he wasn’t looking as confident as he had been a mere moment ago._

_“Black?” She asked, knowing it was what he preferred, at least it had been when they were dating._

_Scorpius nodded. “Yeah.”_

_Rose turned around to heat the water to the required temperature on the counter against the back wall._

_“So… what are you doing here?” She asked, aiming for a casual tone while keeping her back to him. As she glanced at him over her shoulder and noticed the small frown between his brows, she quickly continued, “I mean, I haven’t seen you here before. Didn’t know you knew where I work…”_

_Rose inwardly berated herself for being so blunt to him._

_Scorpius gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, uh, I knew. Al mentioned it a while ago…” he muttered, and watched as Rose finished the tea for him. “Just… didn’t know if I was welcome here.”_

_Rose’s brows lifted up in mild surprise at his words, as she hadn’t really expected him to be straight with her. She silently brought his cup back to the counter and looked at him. “That’d be one fifty.”_

_Scorpius blinked and then pulled up his wallet, a frown on his face. “Here,” he said finally, retrieving a crisp five pound note and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”_

_Rose smiled. “Thank you.” She put the money to the register and then hesitated. He was still standing there, and the place was otherwise empty. He hadn’t asked his tea to go, but he wasn’t making any gestures that he was going to sit down on one of the sofas or at the tables behind him._

_“Do you… want company?” Rose asked slowly. She knew she could sit down for a moment, since she didn’t have other patrons and Scarlett was at the back, handling the inventory._

_Scorpius gave her a quick smile. “I’d like that.”_

_They sat down at one of the tables close to the cashier counter._

_“So…” Rose said, her eyes sweeping over the table before rising up to meet his._

_Scorpius took a sip of his tea. “So,” he said, somewhat tentatively._

_There was an awkward silence._

_Scorpius cleared his throat. “Um. How’s the family?” He asked and then grimaced. “Not the whole – I mean, I know bits and pieces through Al – “_

_“They’re fine,” Rose said quickly, and continued, “Molly had a baby boy.”_

_Scorpius smiled. “Yeah, I heard. You’ve seen him?”_

_Rose nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes! He’s quite the sweetheart!” She said and then blushed slightly. “I’m actually his godmother…”_

_“Wow, Rose. That’s great.” Scorpius said, his smile widening a notch._

_It had been a long time since Rose had seen him smiling at her like that – with ease, with kindness. It made her feel… warm and somewhat nostalgic. Images – images of them, happy and together – started to flicker into the forefront of her mind. She blinked, suddenly realising that she had been staring at him for longer than was appropriate._

_Rose looked down and tried to make sense of the mixed feelings inside her. What was she thinking? She was with Nick, for Merlin’s sake! She was dating Nick, and Scorpius was there to for a cup of tea and…for a chat, apparently, and Rose’s mind was already making images of Scorpius being there for the sole purpose of sweeping her off her feet!_

_“…Rose?”_

_Rose lifted her gaze quickly up. “Huh?”_

_“I asked, how’s Jasmine?” Scorpius asked, watching Rose with a cautious look while he fiddled with his cup._

_She knew he had adored Jasmine when they had dated, but assumed he hadn’t seen her afterwards. Jasmine had been a little over one year old when Scorpius had seen her the first time, during their Christmas holidays in their seventh year._

_Rose smiled at the thought of the now strong-minded three-year-old. “She’s… a handful,” She said and sniggered. “Knows what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to fight for it.”_

_Scorpius nodded slowly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “A future Gryffindor, then.”_

_Rose rolled her eyes at him, even though it was very likely going to happen. She sighed. “You’re probably right.”_

_Scorpius let out a short laugh. Rose couldn’t help but stare at him, knowing, deep down, that she had missed his laugh and his smile dearly._

_“And your mum?” Scorpius asked then._

_Rose shrugged. “Dating a muggle.”_

_“And how’s that going?” Scorpius asked, looking curious._

_Rose sighed. “It’s… a bit awkward, being in his company, I think,” she said, and at Scorpius’s frown she continued, “he’s a good bloke, but it’s tiring – to constantly keep in mind that you can't do magic around him, or talk about magic around him. It's sort of like... Being on one’s toes every minute…”_

_Scorpius nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”_

_“What about your father?” Rose asked, relaxing in her chair._

_He shrugged. “Nothing new, I suppose. He’s teaching me the family business, hoping I’ll take over so that he can retire, and while I’m at it, he expects me to procure a wife and produce some heirs to continue the Malfoy name,” he said easily._

_Rose snorted. “So… Nothing much?”_

_Scorpius sniggered and grinned at her. “Nope.”_

_“But you’re happy about that? Taking over the Malfoy investments?” Rose asked, remembering that Scorpius had once had his doubts about it._

_He looked a bit hesitant for a moment. “I think so. It’s not necessarily a dream job, but… it’s something my father has kept running, and his father before that, and so on. I – I kind of want the continuity.”_

_“I know what you mean,” Rose said thoughtfully, and told him about a discussion she had had with her father, regarding the joke shop._

_Her father had asked, some months ago, that if neither Fred nor Roxanne would be interested continuing the business, would she be inclined to take it over once Ron and George would retire. Rose hadn’t known what to tell her father. She had thought about it, but there were still so many things she had to figure out – mainly, regarding her education – that she hadn’t wanted to tie herself down into anything. They had agreed to leave it open for now._

_After the topic came to its end, Rose looked around and saw two patrons sitting in their respective tables, and with horror, she realised that she had completely forgotten herself and the fact that she was working. She whirled around to look at the counter, and saw Scarlett there, cleaning the coffee machine._

_“I – I should…go. Back to work.” Rose said stiffly to Scorpius, giving a quick glance at the other patrons._

_Luckily, her boss hadn’t popped by the shop – something he occasionally did._

_“Oh. Of course. Sorry.” Scorpius said and gave her an apologising look. “I shouldn’t have taken so much of your time…”_

_Rose shook her head quickly and stood up. “It’s nothing, don’t worry,” she said hastily, as Scorpius followed suit and stood up as well._

_“I’ll – I’ll see you around?” He asked, his eyes moving hesitantly over her face._

_Rose swallowed deeply. What did that even mean?_

_“Um. Sure.” She said, and with a tight smile, she said her goodbyes to him, before retreating back behind the counter._

_As soon as the door closed behind Scorpius, Scarlett turned around from the coffee machine to smirk at Rose._

_“Bloody hell, Scar…” Rose whispered, but didn’t have time to berate her friend more, as the door opened and a small group of teenagers strolled to the counter to place their orders…_

“Oh, god…” Molly groaned quietly after Rose had told her about the unexpected encounter with Scorpius. Molly leaned her head against the backrest of the sofa, before pulling herself up and fixing a long, sharp look at Rose. “I _knew_ this would happen, Rose!”

Rose gave her cousin an incredulous look. “What? How could you _know_ something like this would happen? _Nothing_ like this has ever happened to me!”

Molly sighed wearily. “Yes, it has.”

“No, it hasn’t!”

Molly rolled her eyes at Rose. “The moment you feel happy, the moment you have your relationship in a point where you have been aiming for – you manage to bollocks it up. And it seems that it usually is because of _Scorpius._ ”

Rose scoffed. “What? That’s rubbish.”

“Logan during fourth year? – All right,” Molly said quickly after seeing Rose’s bewildered look – “I admit that he was a right tosser for cheating on you,” she said with a disapproving look. “But you dumped him even before you found out that he had been seeing that Slytherin – that – what’s her name –”

“Alyssa.” Rose said coldly. It was a long time ago, but she still remembered how Alyssa had humiliated her during their Charms class, in front of the fourth year Gryffindors _and_ Slytherins, a week after Rose had broken up with Logan. Alyssa had told everyone that she and Logan had been seeing each other in secret the whole time Rose had been dating him – which hadn’t been more than a couple of weeks.

Molly nodded. “And wasn’t it _Scorpius,_ who convinced you that you should ditch him?” She asked with an arched brow.

Before Rose could tell her that using Logan as an example was rather questionable to begin with and that Rose hadn’t left Logan _because_ of Scorpius but because he had presented her some worrisome rumours, Molly continued, “What about Gregory during fifth year?” Molly asked pointedly. “After you had been gushing about him for five or so months, the moment you started dating, you ditched him because – who was it again?”

Rose narrowed her eyes at Molly. “Scorpius.”

They hadn’t really dated then – Rose and Scorpius – when Rose had ended her fling with Gregory. She had ended things with him, thinking that Scorpius would come running after her, only to find out that he had started dating one of their classmates. Which had lasted until their sixth year, until one night, Scorpius had confessed to her – in a mild state of inebriation, in a party between the houses – that he was going to break up with his girlfriend, because he was in love with someone else. Because he was in love with Rose.

Scorpius and Rose had started dating seriously sometime after the party, at the end of their sixth year. But before that, he had always been there, one way or another. Even if nothing had happened between them before they had started dating, there had always been chemistry between them. According to everyone else, it had only been a matter of time when they ended up together.

And that something between them was still present, even though they hadn’t really seen each other more than a handful of times during the past year and a half.

“And don’t even make me say what happened with –”

“I thought you weren’t going to say it!” Rose hissed quietly, interrupting her.

Molly sighed and was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry Rose… I think you should be happy. And if Nick makes you feel that way, just… be with him, and don’t waste it for something you _think_ could be better,” she said softly.

Rose looked away and frowned. She really had done it, previously – at least with Gregory and Scorpius. She had also regretted her decisions afterwards. With Gregory, it had mostly been because she could’ve been dating him instead of being alone. But with Scorpius, she had thought there was no room for relationship if she were to reach her goals. How utterly wrong she had been.

And now, she could be making another bad choice and possibly throw away something that could essentially be… _good._ Perhaps there was something to be done about it.

Rose nodded slowly, keeping her focus on the baby, who was slowly waking up.

“I think you’re right, Molly,” Rose said quietly.

Molly sniffed. “I’m always right.”

Rose gave her a wry look. “Don’t push it.”

* * *

Later that night, Rose was waiting for Nick at the front door of her building. The previous weekend, Nick had taken her to a rather nice restaurant in Mayfair, with dress codes and everything. The night had been enjoyable, and everything they had ordered had been exceptionally good, but what had made Rose cringe inwardly at the end of the night, had been the bill – which Nick had insisted taking care of.

This time, Rose had asked if they could go to a place of her choosing, and Nick had readily agreed. The Italian restaurant close to her flat wasn’t a fancy place, but Rose rather liked it: the place was full of feeling, it was inviting, and the food was delicious.

Rose shivered in the rather cold and breezy night and glanced at the timepiece on her wrist, hoping that Nick wouldn’t be late. Before she could even finish the thought, there was the familiar ‘pop’ of apparition in the otherwise quiet night, and soon after it, she saw Nick walking briskly towards her building.

“Hi Rose,” Nick said when he got closer.

Rose smiled at him as he walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her on her cheek.

“Hello to you too,” Rose said as they pulled away from each other. Her thoughts instantly went to the previous time she had seen him – earlier that week – and what had transpired between them right before Nick had left home from her place.

It had been on Monday night, and Nick had come by to spend some time with her. Scarlett had been at the hospital for her apprenticeship, and Rose had been quite grateful of her roommate’s absence. Because at the end of the night, the movie they had been watching, had been long forgotten, and instead their focus had been entirely on each other, as they both had been more inclined to kiss the other one senseless.

Sadly, Nick had had to leave before their make-out session had transpired to… _other areas_ , and Rose had been thinking about the night and him for the most part of the week, wondering if they were going to finally spend the night together the next time they would meet, and see where they would end up during it.

“You went to see Molly?” Nick asked as they started to walk towards the restaurant, holding hands.

They had texted a lot during the week, and Rose had naturally told him how excited she was to see her godson again, and finally have a proper chat with her cousin. Her thoughts went to her discussion with Molly, and by the extension, to the unexpected meeting with Scorpius the previous day.

She decided to push away the thoughts regarding her ex and instead recounted to Nick exactly how adorable baby Jackson had been.

“…I mean, you should see him! He’s so… _tiny_!” She squeaked and smiled widely at him. “So cute!”

Rose went on, telling Nick about the baby and the happy parents, and Nick listened quietly, nodding at the right parts, until she mentioned that Molly had been inquiring about Rose and Nick.

“…You told her about me?” Nick asked mutedly.

Rose glanced at him and saw the small frown between his brows. She hesitated. “Um. Yes? I didn’t know I shouldn’t?” It wasn’t like they had been keeping their relationship a secret in front of Scarlett either. Or Nick’s friends, who had been undoubtedly aware that Nick had asked Rose on a date back when they had been at one of James’s games.

Nick gave her a quick look, before shaking his head. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just…” He said and looked somewhat uncomfortable.

“What?” Rose asked sharply, not really liking the look on his face.

Nick sighed and trailed a hand through his hair. “James. He… well, I had a chat with him,” he said tightly.

They arrived to the restaurant, and Nick opened the door for her. “He wasn’t overly happy about it. About us.”

Rose gaped at him. “What?!” She asked, her voice rising. They were forced to walk inside as they were blocking other people’s way.

When Nick merely gave her a small shake of his head, evidently not wanting to discuss it further in front of everyone, they let the waiter guide them to their table. Rose wondered what the hell had James said to Nick, and thought, bristling, that James Potter didn’t have any say in the matter, and she would personally hang him by his bollocks, if he had messed things up for her.

“What did he say?” Rose asked quietly, a demanding tone in her voice, as soon as they were left alone at their table.

Nick grimaced. “It doesn’t matter, Rose. I just didn’t know we were telling everyone that we’re dating,” he said, and at Rose’s surprised look, he quickly continued, “Which I’m fine with, honestly.”

Rose huffed. “Well, _I_ didn’t tell _everyone_. It was Albus, actually…and it was my cousins he decided to share the information with.”

Nick gave her a quick nod. “And I’m okay with that. It just took me by surprise.” He then cleared his throat and picked up the menu. “What’s good in here?” He asked, the topic evidently brushed away.

Rose felt something between bewildered and hesitant. Was Nick actually bothered, or was he just taken by surprise, like he had said?

She decided to let it slide, for now, and instead enjoy the night with him. They ordered their meals – pumpkin ravioli for her, and meaty lasagne for him – and chatted a bit about Nick’s week as they ate, since he had already heard the highlights of Rose’s. The food was delicious, like it had been the last time Rose had been in the restaurant, and their conversation flowed again as easily as before.

As Nick told her about an incident at his apprenticeship, Rose’s thoughts flickered to the previous day, to her own unexpected incident, and to the bit of information she had left unmentioned to Nick. She knew that explaining to Nick that she had seen Scorpius and sat down with him for a while, would make it seem like it had meant more than it did. She was rather certain that she didn’t _want_ to make it into anything more than distant acquaintances having a short chat.

And what had even been Scorpius’s visit’s purpose? Why had he popped by to see her? Was he trying to patch things up with her? Was he trying to – to get Rose back, now that she was with someone he knew? Rose frowned at the table as her mind went spiralling with different options.

“..Rose?” Nick asked, giving her an inquiring look.

Rose’s head whirled upwards to look at him, and she realised that she hadn’t really listened to him.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Nick asked with an amused quirk on his lips.

Rose hastily shook her head. “Oh! No! Sorry, just, thinking of – um. Work.” She blushed and cleared her throat. “You were saying?” She asked with a small cringe.

Nick gave her an understanding smile. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else than my tiresome working hours, shall we?” He asked with a smirk.

Rose nodded slowly. There was a short silence.

“So… Do I have a sudden need to strangle my cousin?” She asked, lifting her brows. “Because don’t think I won’t. I mean –” she continued with a subtle smirk – “I _do_ know a future solicitor.”

Nick snorted. “A solicitor who wouldn’t be able to represent you, considering he’s best friends with the injured party, never mind the fact that his field definitely wouldn’t cover non-fatal or fatal offences – depending what your goal is,” he said simply, the corners of his mouth curving upwards.

Rose laughed.

“However tempting strangling your cousin sounds, no,” he continued with a grin, and then sobered somewhat. “James will come around.”

When Rose gave him a doubtful look, he continued, “I’ve known him for a long time. I know how he works. He’ll overreact, and then –” Nick said and shrugged. “Then he’ll come around.”

Rose pursed her lips. “I suppose you’re right… And, well, I’m his _cousin,_ so I don’t even see him having any right to meddle into my personal life,” She said wryly. “I mean, it’s not like he has that right when it comes to his sister either, although I’m sure he thinks he does…”

Nick grinned. “Not arguing here… How is Lily, by the way?” He asked, and something in his voice made Rose narrow her eyes at him.

“For the love of Merlin, don’t tell me you have had anything to do with Lily?” Rose asked, a hint of dread flickering into the bottom of her stomach. She knew Nick had been dating many different girls during his Hogwarts years, and presumably after Hogwarts, but if Lily had somehow been involved with him – even though it seemed doubtful, considering their four-year age difference – Rose wasn’t sure if she was going to be comfortable with that. Lily was her friend, one of the closest relatives she had…

Nick laughed. “Didn’t we just establish that James would do his nut if I’d had anything to do with his sister?”

Rose huffed.  
  
“No, Rose.” Nick said seriously, leaning slightly forwards. “I haven’t had any interest towards my best friend’s sister. And I’m rather certain I never will,” he said lightly. “I was just asking because you told me that you can’t wait to see her during the holidays.”

“Oh.” Rose said, feeling slightly embarrassed, remembering her discussion with Nick. It had been that night at the Swingers. “Uh. She’s doing okay. I think,” she said, wondering when had been the last time she had written to Lily. She decided that it had been too long, and would write her first thing in the morning.

Nick nodded. “Okay.”

Rose felt uncertain. Now that they had sort of opened the discussion, she knew she wanted to know if Nick had been romantically involved with any of her relatives. It wasn’t that it would bother her – well, if it had been Lily, it would’ve – but it was more for her to be prepared than anything else.

“What is it?” Nick asked quietly, watching Rose with a studious look.

Rose chewed the inside of her cheek and then let out a huff. “All right. Since – since I brought up Lily...” She muttered and then cringed.

Nick looked amused. “You want to know if I’ve been with any of your friends or relatives?”

“Merlin, I can’t believe we’re having this discussion right now…” Rose muttered and gave him and apologising look.

“It’s fine.” Nick said easily. “Well, I’ve snogged Dominique a couple of times, I’m sure you know about that...?”

Rose nodded. Unfortunately, she knew. It had been during their fifth year – Nick’s seventh – and Rose didn’t know the whole picture, but apparently Nick and Dominique had hooked up a couple of times at their house parties during the spring. She wasn’t sure if _snogging_ was the only thing that had been going on, but she wasn’t really interested to find out if there had been more. It wasn’t like she had fancied Nick at the time, so it didn’t really bother her. What had bothered her, however, had been Dominique’s smug grin when she had heard that Rose was dating Nick.

Nick was watching her reaction carefully, before he continued. “And I’ve kissed Molly.”

Rose nearly choked on her own saliva. “You _WHAT?!”_ She nearly screeched, and then cringed at the loudness of her voice.

Many people around them had turned to watch them with disapproving and curious expressions.

Nick sniggered.

“Care to explain?” Rose asked sharply.

If Molly had been dating Nick, and doing Merlin knew what, and not even bothering to tell her that, when Molly had known about him – had known that Rose and Nick had had something going on for some time now – and Rose didn’t even know how to feel about Molly’s betrayal –

“Second year.” Nick said, and bit his lip to suppress a grin. “It was seven minutes in heaven, and she slapped me after I kissed her.” Nick said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Rose seethed, while she felt quite relieved. “You – you –”

Nick laughed. “I hope I’m not disappointing you.”

“Merlin.” Rose huffed, and then joined his laughter.

They continued the topic, and they both gave the other a brief recollection of their dating history. Nick was predictably very amused by Rose’s bad dating experiences from the past months.

* * *

Later that night, they had gone back to Rose’s and Scarlett’s place, and after a surprisingly civil discussion with Scarlett in their sitting room, Rose and Nick had retreated to Rose’s bedroom.

Rose sighed, feeling pleasant waves flickering down her body while Nick paid attention to her neck, sucking and kissing the tender skin under her jawline.

“Nick…” Rose whispered, taking his head gently between her hands and guiding his lips back to meet hers.

They had been at it for some time now, standing next to the closed door of Rose’s bedroom, as they hadn’t managed to move any further.

The moment they had stepped into the room and closed the door behind them, Nick had pressed her against the wall and had made all her thoughts vanish from her head as he had kissed her. And all she could think now, was the excitement and warmth spreading inside her when his lips caressed hers, and how smooth and hot his touch was, how feverish he made her feel.

“Yeah?” Nick breathed against her lips, before trailing his tongue against her parted mouth.

Rose let out a breathy sigh. “I need more…”

Nick pulled back, only slightly, keeping his fingers pressed against her hips. “Yeah?” He asked, licking his lips as he gazed at her, and Rose didn’t even remember if she had ever seen anyone so… turned on.

Perhaps she had, but now was not the time to ponder over it. She gave him a small nod and then moved to the side, towards her bed. She took his hand and guided him to follow her.

Rose sat on the edge of her bed and then moved backwards, to sit in the middle of it. Nick followed her, and soon they were kissing again, lying on the bed, with Rose on her back and Nick partly on top of her, his hands against the mattress on both sides of Rose’s head, their panting breaths and the wet and sucking sounds of their lips filling the silence in the room.

She let her hand smooth down the fabric of his shirt and felt him shiver slightly, while he never stopped kissing her. Her fingers finally found the buttons of his trousers, and when she quickly opened them, Nick let out a strained moan against her lips.

They were both worked up, fervent and in a desperate need of ridding the other one of their clothes, so that they would be able to finally feel the heated skin against the other.

And moments later, they did.

* * *

Afterwards, after an intense, steamy, urgent and exhilarating bliss, they were both drained, still breathing heavily while lying next to each other, trying to catch their breaths.

“Merlin…” Rose whispered, her head void of everything. All she could feel, was the deep satisfaction and emptiness in the bottom of her stomach and in the forefront of her mind. It had been too long, since she had been with anyone. The last time she had had sex, had been with Scorpius, at the end of their seventh year. Which was a year and a half ago.

“Nick’s fine…” Nick mumbled next to her, his eyes still closed.

Rose rolled her eyes at him, but then let her gaze move up and down his body, admiring him. He was rather good looking: lean, a bit muscular, a trail of hair on his chest and under his belly button – the latter of which reached all the way to his sex, and for some reason, even looking at him there made her feel somewhat embarrassed.

She moved her gaze back to Nick’s face, and saw him watching her with a curious expression. Rose’s cheeks felt warm. Nick gave her a tired smirk. “Not really up for a rematch. Not yet, at least…”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him, and Nick chuckled before he proceeded to pull her close to him and place a soft kiss on her lips.

Nick pulled the comforter over them, and they stayed there for a while, with Rose lying close to him, using his shoulder as a pillow, while Nick’s fingers trailed softly up and down her side.

“I have to go soon,” Nick muttered against her hair after a short silence.

Rose pulled slightly back to look at him in the eye. She had been so comfortable, almost ready to fall asleep in his arms. But him suddenly leaving, when she had thought that he would be spending the night, had made her wide awake.

“Why?” She asked, a small frown forming between her brows.

Nick raised his hand and brushed his thumb against her bottom lip while staring into her eyes. “I have to work early in the morning.”

Rose swallowed. “Oh. Of course.” She said, feeling both disappointed and foolish. Of course he would want to go home if he was working the next day… But why had he come back to her place then? Why hadn’t he mentioned before that he wouldn’t be staying the night?

Perhaps, because their mouths had been otherwise occupied? Rose knew she was being silly, for feeling disappointed and misled.

After Rose had said her goodbyes to Nick in the hallway – goodbyes, that had really been a long and unhurried snog rather than something that was put into words – she made her way to the sitting room.

Scarlett was stretched on the sofa, her eyes glued to the telly. There was a flicker of a smirk on her lips.

Rose snorted. “Go on?” She said, knowing that her friend was bursting to say something. She walked up to the sofa and nudged Scarlett’s feet away to make room for her.

Scarlett sniggered, eyeing Rose with a knowing look. “Had fun?” She asked innocently.

Rose suppressed a grin. “That… is for me to know, and you, to – well, speculate,” she said simply, feeling smug.

She was rather certain Scarlett had a good assumption about what had transpired between Rose and Nick in Rose’s bedroom, but there was no need to give Scarlett the confirmation.

“Oh, I was just being courteous,” Scarlett said casually. “You didn’t put up any silencing charms – so” she said with a shrug – “I’d speculate you enjoyed every minute of it.” She finished with a straight face and nodded at the telly. “Fancy an episode of Chicago Fire?”

Rose groaned and covered her face with her hands. She felt a mix of embarrassment and frustration taking over her previously sated and giddy mood. She had had all the intentions of placing a silencing charm in her room, _knowing_ how bloody thin their walls were. But in the midst of… _everything_ …it had slipped her mind.

Scarlett chuckled and pressed play. Rose sighed and lowered her hands, opting to stay silent after reassuring herself that Scarlett evidently wasn’t bothered by the events.

“Loverboy didn’t stay for the night?” Scarlett asked, half absently, and before Rose could reply, she whirled towards Rose, a wide grin on her face, “Oh, wow. _Loverboy_ actually has a new meaning now…”

Rose huffed in frustration. “Stop it, Scar,” she said with a sharp look, before letting out a weary sigh and looking away from her friend. “No, he didn’t.”

Scarlett hummed thoughtfully. “And…you _wanted_ him to stay?” She asked carefully.

Rose could feel her friend’s scrutinising stare on the side of her face. She shrugged. “Yeah, I kind of did…He said he couldn’t stay because he has to work tomorrow.”

“Reasonable.” Scarlett said slowly, giving an agreeing nod. “But… knowing you, I understand why you’re bothered.”

Rose frowned at her friend. “What does that mean? Wouldn’t you be bothered?” She asked, feeling somewhat defensive.

Scarlett gave her a pointed look. “How many boyfriends have I had since you’ve known me?” She asked, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Why does that have anything to do with Nick not staying the night and me being bothered by it?” Rose asked, even though she kind of knew the answer already.

Scarlett sighed. “Please. You know we’re different. You know that _I know_ that you want the whole ‘let’s spend every minute of every day together’ relationship,” She said with an exaggerated sweetness in her tone while ignoring Rose’s mild glare, “and _you know_ that I couldn’t stand that – that that’s my worst nightmare, really,” she said pointedly.

When Rose merely pursed her lips at her, Scarlett continued, “So yes, I do understand why you’d be bothered, as much as you’d understand that I wouldn’t,” she said simply. “But, perhaps there will be another time for a sleepover, and he simply wanted to have a good night’s sleep before work, instead of having it off with you the whole night,” she finished with a smirk.

Rose knew her friend had a point. She knew she shouldn’t read into it too much, not yet. She had been seeing Nick only for a short period of time. Surely, there would be other nights, other opportunities. She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

Scarlett arched a brow at her. “Well, _that’s_ nothing new.” She said with a huff, and when Rose opened her mouth to argue, she quickly continued, “Well, I mean, not necessarily right at that one time, when I told you your date with Tom would go splendidly,” she said with a grimace.

They stared at each other for a stilled moment, before they both burst in laughter.


	16. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some James!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome - I love hearing your thoughts :)

**Chapter 16: James**

**Saturday, 13 December 2025**

James sat in the locker room and stared at the floor, not really paying attention to what happened around him, not really hearing his teammates’ jokes and laughter, as they went on and on about the last game before the holidays and chatted about the end of the first half of the season party at Mason’s.

He had known to expect it – being pulled into a discussion with their manager. He was only surprised it had taken so long for Johnson to arrange it.

The Magpies had won their last game before the winter break, but it definitely hadn’t been their best performance. Definitely not James’s. Two games lost and two rather poorly played had apparently been enough for Johnson to do something about it. And James understood it, he did. It was only going to get more complicated for Johnson to handle when Oliver would return back to the Wimbourne Wasps in the beginning of January, and Zara would step up to be one of the regulars with James and Chuck.

“Hey, mate,” Dylan said and patted James on the shoulder. “You okay?” He asked and started to empty his locker into a large bag.

James blinked at his teammate. “Yeah. Yeah.” He said slowly and glanced around them.

James was still in his Quidditch gear, while everyone else had already showered and got dressed, and were either putting their things together or leaving already, tired after the game but excited about the upcoming holidays and the much-needed break.

“You’re coming, right?” Dylan asked, shrugging his coat on. “To Mason’s?”

James looked at Dylan’s inquiring expression and gave him a tight smile. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he muttered.

Dylan took his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He lifted his brows at James expectantly.

“Be there in a bit,” James said and rubbed his neck, feeling how tightly wound every muscle there was.

Dylan nodded. “Sure. See you there!” He said lightly and rushed to the door, where the last of their teammates were gathered, in the process of leaving the place.

James leaned forward, elbows against his knees and let out a weary sigh when the door closed and silence fell into the room. He stared at the floor, at the dents in the wood, his thoughts somewhere else. He didn’t know what to say to their manager, when he would ask. When he would ask, what the hell had happened to James, for he wasn’t the same as he had once been.

Sure, James had done things he regretted and had changed during his career, but nothing had before affected his game as much as his falling out with Oliver now did. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and slid his fingers into his messy hair.

What the hell was he going to say to their manager?

James knew his career was at stake. It had been implied before, whenever his misbehaviour had ended up being public knowledge. And then he had started to have problems with his teammates. And now he was playing poorly.

He knew not _everything_ in his life was out of order. He reckoned some things – things that had been bothering him for a long time, were getting better – if what had been discussed at his parents’ home the previous weekend was any indication.

_James took in a deep breath before stepping into the hallway of his parents’ house in Winkfield. His old home._

_“Hello?” He yelled in the empty hallway, before taking off his coat and hanging it in the coat rack. “Mum? …Dad?” James called and walked further, making his way towards the kitchen, where the delicious smells of breakfast were coming from._

_It had been a while since he had been there. After James had graduated, he had lived with his parents for a short while, before getting his own place – a flat he had rented with two of his teammates at the time. After he had moved out, he had visited his parents regularly, until things between him and his father had started to become strained._

_James wasn’t sure why, to be exact. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he had become an object of public attention, both because he was a new and promising Quidditch player and because he was Harry Potter’s son, who wasn’t hidden behind the protective enchantments of Hogwarts anymore. It had been somewhat clear from the beginning that his father wasn’t thrilled by James’s choice of career. Still, for the first months after James’s first season with the Magpies had started, his father hadn’t shown his opinion as clearly as he later did, and had even made time to see some of James’s games._

_“…Kitchen!” James’s mother yelled, rather unnecessarily as James appeared to the kitchen doorway a second later. “Oh. Hello, darling,” she said when she saw James. Her long red hair was tied into a bun in the nape of her neck, and she looked well rested and happier than James had seen her in a while. “Your father will be downstairs in a moment. Sit down,” she said and nudged her head at the round table in the corner, next to tall windows._

_It was packed with breakfast assortments. James blinked at the table while his stomach rumbled noisily. He glanced at his mother as he sat down on one of the three seats. “You did all this?” He asked, lifting his brows in appreciation._

_His mother gave him a nervous smile. “No, actually. I barely did anything. It was –”_

_“Hello, James.”_

_James turned sharply on his seat towards the kitchen doorway, where his father stood. James watched him move towards him and absently thought that it was Albus who resembled their father these days, and not James. His father had let his hair grow a bit, and even though he evidently hadn’t spent as much of his time to style it like Albus did, it didn’t look bad. James’s father had also trimmed his beard and was wearing a fresh set of muggle clothes. He looked better than the last time James had seen him – which was some months ago, some time after he had been released from St Mungo’s._

_“You cooked?” James asked from his father, not bothering to hide the surprise in his tone. He let his eyes flicker over the table, taking in the inviting view of fluffy eggs, crisp bacon, pancakes with fresh berries, ham and cheese croissants, and tomato and avocado toasts._

_James’s father gave an embarrassed shrug and stopped behind the free chair next to James’s. “Uh. Yeah.”_

_“Wow, dad…” James muttered. He noticed that his mother was still on the other side of the room, her back against them, preparing tea – something that seemed to take an awfully long time to do._

_His father cleared his throat and stared at James, a deep frown on his face. “James…”_

_James swallowed hard and felt rather uncomfortable, knowing that his father was going to address the state of their relationship and the cracks and faults in it. He knew it needed to be discussed, that he wanted his father to apologise, and that deep down, he longed to be favoured again by his father. Still, a part of him wished they didn’t have to have the talk._

_“I’m sorry, James,” his father said quietly, looking straight at him with a stricken expression. “I haven’t been the father you deserve,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders sagging. “And I know saying it is only the beginning and not – that it will not make the past go away, but…” he said and grimaced at the table, before fixing James a determined look. “I’d like to try to start fixing things between us.”_

_James was taken aback by his words, even though he had somewhat expected them – after all, his mother had told him that his father wanted to talk to him. Lately, James had thought quite a lot about his relationship with his father. He had been angry at his father, for the past two years, and now... Now he felt bitter, as it had taken a near death experience and a Mind Healer for James’s father to finally realise it and say it out loud that he had been a shitty father to him. James was jealous that his brother and sister hadn’t received such indifference from their father, and had been treated differently. And however much he had tried not to let it bother him, it still had._

_“James?” His father inquired carefully, and James lifted his gaze from the table he had been scowling at._

_There was sincerity in his father’s eyes, and he looked – he looked uncertain and vulnerable. He also looked nervous, and was chewing the inside of his cheek while waiting for James’s answer. At that moment, James thought he looked nothing like the great Harry Potter – the head of the DMLE – that James and everyone else in the wizarding world had got used to seeing. Right then, he was just a man – a father – hoping to make amends with his son. And that was what James had been longing for – for his father to finally ask his forgiveness. James knew he hadn’t been the perfect son either, but he was there now. He also knew that he needed to change as well, needed to accept his father’s apology and let him be part of his life again._

_James swallowed deeply, not really knowing how to put in words what he wanted to say – as there were many, many things he wanted to say to his father – so he said what he could._

_“Okay, dad.”_

_His father’s shoulders sagged in relief, and the tightness around his mouth softened. He nodded. “Thank you, James,” he said quietly._

_There was a rather awkward silence, but luckily, they were saved by James’s mother who cleared her throat from the other side of the kitchen and levitated three cups of tea to the table, before taking a seat opposite to James._

_“Shall we eat?” She asked brightly, feigning ignorance, as if nothing out of ordinary had just happened. It was a rather futile try, since both James and his father could see the redness in her eyes._

_James nodded and his father took a seat next to him. They started filling up their plates and at first, everything felt stiff and uncertain when James’s father inquired how James was doing, and as James gave him a stiff reply of doing well. His father then asked what he had been up to on his free time, and if he had written to his sister or seen his brother. James knew that his father hadn’t asked about Quidditch on purpose, evidently aware that it was a sore subject to James. Only… there wasn’t much of anything else in his life than Quidditch, so James’s answers were rather short and blunt._

_“…And you?” James finally asked, after deciding that he wouldn’t want to risk his father resorting to ask about Quidditch after all. “I heard you’ve been –” and James didn’t miss the sharp look from his mother – “Um. Making things?” He asked unsurely from his father, having heard more than once his brother grumbling about their father and his odd obsession for wood whittling._

_James’s father took a sip of his tea and raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I’ve, uh. It was something to focus into, instead of –” he cleared his throat and nodded at the table, his expression strained. “I’ve made those.”_

_James stared at the table, at the hand-carved walnut wooden serving bowls and plates. Which were, James had to admit, quite neat and well done. And his father had made all of those? “These are actually kind of fancy, dad,” he said and lifted one of the plates – that had been emptied of bacon – to closer inspection._

_His father stammered, while James’s mother smiled widely at them both._

_“Thank you, James.” James’s father managed with an embarrassed grin, when James put the plate down._

_They continued to talk about James’s father’s new hobby, before James’s mother moved the discussion to the upcoming holidays and James’s sister Lily..._

All in all, it had been a rather pleasant morning, and James had actually felt calm and hopeful when he had left his parents’ place. It had been a start, like his father had said, but… perhaps things between them were finally going to get better.

However, James knew everything in his life wouldn’t magically be resolved, if he didn’t do something about it. With his father, it was more to do with _letting_ his father fix things with James while letting go of his own bitterness. He needed to let go of the past, of the anger, and focus on the future.

But with everything else, there were things he wasn’t ready to address, not even within his own mind. He sat there, in the empty locker room for a long moment, before he took off his gear and went to the shower.

* * *

After getting dressed and putting his things together, James marched to their manager’s office.

It was a small room, with a sofa under two small windows on one side of the room, and a large desk with two armchairs facing it on the other side. Behind the desk there were their manager’s chair and a couple of cupboards lining the wall.

“Potter. Come in,” Johnson grunted, leaning against the backrest of his chair. He flicked his wand to organise the parchments littered over his table. He scratched his scruffy beard as he eyed James with a thoughtful expression.

James closed the door behind him and took a seat on the other side of Johnson’s desk. “You wanted to chat?”

Johnson shifted on his too small seat. He was a tall and muscular man, and James often wondered why he didn’t simply transfigure a better chair for himself. Johnson gave James a long, scrutinising look, his eyes sharp under the heavy and flat eyebrows. “I did,” he said mutedly. “I was hoping that you would help me understand – help me support you.”

James clenched his jaw. “There’s nothing to understand.”

There was no way in hell that James would open up to his manager – not when he himself hadn’t really figured out his issues.

“Obviously that is not true,” Johnson said and gave James a deep frown. “I just want to be sure of my team. I’m not expecting anyone to be perfect, not expecting you to be perfect, but something has happened. I think we both know that.”

When James looked away, Johnson sighed and nodded slowly.

“I’m thinking of making Adams a regular.”

James blinked, not having really expecting that. He cleared his throat and looked at his manager. “Instead of… Brown?” James asked, knowing that it was only announced some weeks ago that Zara would replace Oliver during the second half of the season, and possibly getting her contract renewed for the following season as a regular.

“Instead of you.”

And it was so sudden, so – so unexpected, that James nearly forgot to breathe. He knew Johnson had said it to James before – yelled more like – that he ought to put his shit together or he’d face bench. But never had Johnson actually said, calmly, to his face, that he was thinking of replacing him with someone else.

Several thoughts zoomed in and out of his mind. What would it be like? To be in reserve? If he was even allowed that? Would he be kicked out of the team entirely?

It would be bloody awful. It would be… humiliating. His career would be over. No one would want him after that. He could as well stop playing Quidditch then and there and beg his parents to pull some strings for him in the Ministry, like he suspected they had done for Al.

And what would happen next year, when he was going to play in the English team in the Quidditch World Cup? Would he still play? Or… would he be replaced before the tournament in order to avoid undesirable publicity?

Bloody hell…

“…James?”

James stared at Johnson, not used to hearing him utter his first name.

“ _If_ it comes to that, I will make an excuse for the English team, if necessary,” Johnson said and lifted his brows at James, evidently seeing the mix of emotions on his face. “I wouldn’t want to cause any disagreement regarding your contract with them,” he said and then rubbed his face. “And to be honest, I wouldn’t want to put you on bench or let you go,” he said and gave James a serious look. “You’ve been one of the best Chasers I’ve had in a long while, and I want to believe that you’ll be able to handle whatever it is that is happening now in your life and affecting your game.” He said and then continued quietly, “I’ve overlooked this for too long – I think you know what I mean,” he said and lifted his brows in question.

James gave him a tight nod, knowing that Johnson was talking about the past few years, and all the bad press he had made.

“You have two weeks after the winter break to prove yourself, and if I cannot detect any improvement, you will replace Adams on bench,” Johnson said wearily.

James swallowed hard.

“We both know that Adams or Smith cannot be compared to you on broom, but I’m afraid I simply do not have any other choice,” Johnson continued, watching James with disappointment in his eyes. “The rest of the season will be what determines whether you’ll have a contract with Magpies for the next season or not. I hope you consider what is important to you and make the effort. That is all I ask.”

* * *

“Finally!” Mason exclaimed when he opened the door to his house and found James standing outside. “Took you long enough!”

After seeing Johnson, James had walked outside for quite some time before apparating to Mason’s. Johnson’s ultimatum was all he could think of, and it made him nauseous, it made him want to scream his frustration and destroy things. He knew he had to think things through, that he needed to figure out what was important to him, and make the effort, as Johnson had asked. But he also knew that he couldn’t go to see his teammates with that bloody mess on his shoulders. So, he forced all of that into the back corner of his mind, deciding that he wouldn’t think of it, at least not until the next day when he would be alone in his home.

James smirked at his teammate. Mason was six feet tall – about James’s height – and his black hair was cut close to his head. He was wearing a white t-shirt that contrasted with his dark skin, and the several tattoos on his arms were now mostly visible.

“What – you’ve been sitting in silence and waiting for me to start the party?” James asked wryly and stepped inside as Mason moved aside to give him room.

Mason laughed and clapped James on the shoulder. “Not a chance, mate.” He said lightly, and took a sip of his drink – Firewhiskey, it seemed.

James took off his coat and followed Mason to the sitting room, where most of the team was situated, divided into smaller groups. In the middle of the long room, there were two large sofas, forming an L-shape, where Zara, Riley, Luke, Dean and Kara were sitting. On the other end of the room, close to the tall windows lining the walls of a large alcove, sat Oliver, Chuck, Dylan and Blake at the dining table.

The sitting room was somewhat colourful on James’s opinion: the walls were deep red, one of the sofas was dark grey and the other one brown, the tall and long bookshelf against one wall was white and the floors were dark. There was a thick, red and grey rug on the floor between the sofas, and on top of it, a large coffee table.

James greeted everyone and then slumped down to sit next to Kara, his back against the dining table.

“…as I was saying,” Kara, the team’s Seeker spoke. “I nearly missed the Snitch – I mean, you saw how close Donovan was in the end – but luckily, _I_ was faster,” she said in a sardonic voice and sniggered when Riley and Zara both rolled their eyes at her.

Kara was a slim and short girl – perfectly built for a Seeker. Whether they were in mid game or not, her appearance was always refined and well-kept. During games, her dark and long hair was always swept up in a perfect chignon, but now it fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She was funny and easy-going, and had a strict rule of not messing around with her teammates, even though both Dean and Mason had tried to catch her attention off the pitch, during the past year and a half.

James watched his teammate as she continued to analyse her tactics and briefly thought about the game, knowing that Kara catching the Snitch forty-five minutes in the game had been a godsend.

“You’re awfully quiet, Potter,” Kara said after the conversation came to an end. She arched a brow at James.

“I reckon Potter’s too sober – I’d say we all are!” Chris – one of the reserve Beaters – said as he walked from the kitchen, levitating a number of shot glasses in front of him. Andrew and Theodore – the reserve Seeker and the other reserve Beater followed his lead and joined them in the sitting room as well.

James gave him a noncommittal shrug and snatched one of the glasses that were now hovering over the coffee table. “Gallagher has a point,” James muttered at Kara and threw the shot back in one gulp.

James’s mouth and throat were on fire, and he coughed and pulled a face at the sharp taste, before putting the glass back to the table. “Circe,” he said, frowning at Chris. “What the hell was that?”

Theodore sniggered. “Fireball shots.”

“That explains it,” James said with a grimace, while the others around him either shook their heads in distaste or grabbed a shot and downed it like James had done, coughing and laughing afterwards.

Six shots and two and a half beers later, James was very much feeling the effects of the muggle alcohol.

“I’m pissed…” James muttered before leaning his head against the headrest of the sofa and staring at the ceiling.

“Hmm.” Mason voiced his agreements next to him and then leaned closer so that only James heard him. “So… No Euphoria Elixir for you then, huh?”

James snorted and glanced at his friend. Mason grinned at him, his brows lifted up in inquiry.

James knew it was probably the mildest of potions he’d taken for enjoyment, but also knew that mixing it with too much of alcohol, could be disastrous. And he wasn’t really feeling adventurous.

James gave Mason a small shake of his head. “Nah, mate. I’ll pass this time.”

Mason shrugged. “Your loss,” he said lightly and stood up, before making his excuses and disappearing to his bedroom.

“What’s up with Mason?” Oliver asked, appearing behind the sofa, only moments after Mason had left.

James blinked at him, seeing him upside down, before pulling up from the headrest and turning slightly around to look at his teammate.

“Uh. Nothing.” James said with a small shrug while Oliver circled the sofa and sat in a chair next to it, close to where James was lounging.

Oliver gave him a searching look, but then seemed to accept James’s answer.

“Good game,” Oliver said after a small silence between them. Everyone else around them were occupied in their own discussions.

James let out a quiet snort. “Whatever you say,” James muttered, not having the strength to hide his disagreement. He knew that their teamwork from the previous month couldn’t even be compared to what it once had been.

“Well timed Reverse Pass,” Oliver said, rather stiffly, and James wanted to down the three remaining shots on the table.

He would rather grimace and cough while drinking the foul-tasting liquor than have the uncomfortable small talk with Oliver. “Yeah. Good catch.”

They were both saved by Mason, who emerged from his bedroom. “WRIGHT!!”

Everyone turned to watch as Mason returned back to the sitting room, somehow having acquired a large cake with several candles on top of it.

“Couldn’t let you go without a proper send off, could we?” Mason asked and sniggered when everyone around them either laughed or cheered.

Oliver shook his head in amusement and stood up from his chair to blow the candles. The cake was shoved to the coffee table while both Mason and Chuck attacked Oliver, nearly crushing him in a bear hug, followed by the rest of the team.

James needed some fresh air. Watching all the commotion in the middle of the sitting room made his head spin slightly. He stood up, and without anyone noticing, he slipped outside from the back door.

James stepped into the garden, the noise of music and laughter disappearing behind the closed door. He stared at the dark grounds, before fumbling a bit for his pockets. He rarely craved for a smoke, but now it seemed something he desperately needed.

He lowered the bottle of beer on the terrace floor and then lit the end of his cigarette, taking in deep breaths and revelling at the burning feeling in his lungs.

It didn’t really make him feel better, but he took another drag, and another, regardless.

There was a momentary noise as the door opened. James glanced over his shoulder and felt a jolt inside him. It was Oliver.

“Hey, mate.” Oliver said and nodded at James’s cigarette. “Already taking up bad habits, huh?”

James shrugged and returned his gaze towards the garden while Oliver walked further and stopped next to James. “How did you manage to shrug everyone off?” James asked casually.

Oliver gave him a grin. “I mean. There _was_ cake.”

“Was?” James asked, a smile curving his lips.

Oliver snorted. “Have you met the guys?” He asked pointedly.

James nodded. “Fair enough.”

There was a short silence, during which James smoked silently his cigarette and looked ahead into the darkness.

“Any plans for the holidays?” Oliver asked lightly, as if they were still mates who inquired each other’s doings and plans.

James’s thoughts went to the last time he had spoken to Oliver – after the previous game – and he wondered if he would’ve received answers to his questions if Dean and Albus hadn’t interrupted them.

_“Wright.” James said as his teammate walked into the locker room where James and most of the team had already returned. “Can you stay for a bit?” He asked quietly, his voice tense._

_Both Chuck and Mason, who had accompanied Oliver and being the last team members to enter the men’s locker room, gave James and Oliver curious looks._

_Oliver too stared at James for a bit before he replied with a shrug. “Yeah. Sure.”_

_They stayed behind after everyone had showered and left the locker room._

_“So…?” Oliver asked quietly, sitting opposite to James, leaning against the lockers, his arms crossed against his chest. There was no malice in his voice, and his eyes trailed over James’s face with a questioning look._

_James cleared his throat, glancing at Oliver before he looked at his own hands that hung between his spread knees. “I’m – I’m sorry.” He said, and when Oliver stayed silent, James looked up at him._

_Oliver sighed and dropped his arms against his sides. He looked hesitant, like he was about to say something, but instead he frowned and looked away._

_“It’s been shit, lately. And…and I shouldn’t have said anything to you at Al’s party,” James continued slowly, watching Oliver’s reaction carefully._

_Oliver’s gaze moved back to meet James’s. “It’s not just that…”_

_“Then what is it?” James asked sharply, starting to feel a bit annoyed. “I’m trying here, you know?” James said and trailed a frustrated hand through his hair. “I dunno what to do to make it go away – to go back to how things used to be.”_

_Oliver took in a deep breath and stared at the floor in thought. “That’s a bit too late, isn’t it James?” Oliver asked, his jaw hard._

_James sighed inwardly. Why the hell did Oliver have to make everything so… so bloody complicated? Why couldn’t they just be friends and forget what had happened? Why wasn’t apology enough? It wasn’t like they were going to spend that much time together after Oliver would go back to the_ _Wimbourne Wasps in the beginning of January. Couldn’t they agree to be friends and… perhaps they could meet some time? Perhaps they could see each other during the holidays?_

_Oliver shook his head slightly and stood up. He grabbed his bag and walked a couple of steps towards the middle of the room._

_“Oliver, please…” James sighed, and he too stood up and followed his friend, while trying to gather his thoughts and decide what exactly he wanted to say to his friend._

_Oliver gave him a strained look, and opened his mouth to speak, but then the door banged open._

_Dean was there, and behind him, Albus…_

“Was hoping to see you, actually. During the holidays.” James said and sucked the end of the cigarette in order to focus into something else than Oliver’s questioning look.

Oliver let out a small sigh. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said weakly.

James bristled and turned towards Oliver. “Why?” He asked with an unwavering gaze.

“You know why.” Oliver said and chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked away.

James shook his head. “No, I don’t. I don’t know why do you think it’s too late. I don’t know why we can’t just forget about Al’s party. I don’t know why do you think it’s not a good idea!” James said angrily, his voice rising.

Oliver licked his lips and glanced at the house behind them before he looked at James. “It’s not just what happened at Al’s party – and the fact that you think it is, proves my point. We shouldn’t make it more complicated than it already is.”

James scoffed. “So, what?” He asked, shaking his head in bewilderment. “You can’t even try? You’ll ignore me from now on?”

James dropped the cigarette to the terrace and flicked his wand to vanish it.

Oliver trailed a hand through his hair. “Not – not now. Maybe… if we don’t see each other for a while, and then it’ll be different, who knows?” Oliver said mutedly. “And I won’t ignore you. I just… I won’t be spending time with you.” He said and gave James an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, James.”

James stared at him, feeling disbelief and incredulity mixing inside him. And even though he felt like that, deep down, he knew exactly why Oliver was putting distance between them – why Oliver thought it was best that they didn’t see each other for some time. But James decided to ignore the knowing nudge of his subconscious mind and decided to argue, to stubbornly disagree with Oliver.

“Hey,” James said and took a step closer to his friend before taking a hold of Oliver’s arm.

Oliver stood rigidly in place and watched James closely.

“I just want us to go back to how we were,” James said quietly, looking straight into Oliver’s blue eyes.

His eyes flickered downwards when Oliver licked his lips, and for a moment, James felt distracted by them, and he wondered why he hadn’t really taken a notice before. Oliver’s lips were suddenly so… fascinating, and James found himself thinking if they would feel as soft as they looked.

James blinked when Oliver moved, and before he could react, Oliver’s lips were brushing against his.

It only lasted for a moment, but to James, time seemed to stop. James felt like the air had suddenly disappeared from his lungs, and all he could feel, all he could be aware of, was the shock of warmness flaring through him, and the tingling on his lips when Oliver pulled back.

He couldn’t look at Oliver, because he didn’t even know how to react to what had just happened between them. It had been an utter surprise, but – why did he feel disappointed? Why did he feel like – like he was being denied of something?

Then Oliver broke the silence. “…You really think we can?” He whispered.

James stared at Oliver’s chest, and couldn’t work himself up – to work up the courage – to look at him in the eyes again. He realised Oliver was replying to James’s previous statement. He knew Oliver expected him to say something, to give him _any_ reaction, but he couldn’t.

James swallowed hard and gritted his teeth in order to stop the storm of feelings raging inside him, feelings so overwhelming that they made him nauseous.

“Goodbye, James.” Oliver said quietly, evidently making his own assumptions by James’s silence. He turned away and retreated back inside.

James didn’t have the strength to call him back – and what would he have said? It wasn’t like he knew what to even feel about the whole scenario, or about Oliver.

He stood in place for a while, trying to sort out his thoughts. When all he could think of was the moment when Oliver leaned closer to him and how James had felt when Oliver’s warm breath had ghosted against his lips, it became too much for him to handle. James swirled around and leaned down to grab his beer. He knew there would be at least _one_ way for him to handle it.


	17. Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this very late so mind the typos...
> 
> I'm curious! Which story are you most interested in reading? Why? Let me know :)

**Chapter 17: Hermione**

**Sunday, 14 December 2025**

"Good morning." Bruce whispered behind her, kissing the back of her head affectionately.

Hermione smiled, still somewhere between sleep and awake. "Good morning, Bruce." She cracked an eye open and looked at the clock on her nightstand: it was close to eight in the morning.

She sighed, closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Bruce, humming as he placed unhurried and soft kisses on her neck. Hermione knew they could very well stay in bed for a bit, since Rose would be joining her later that day for lunch, and as Hugo had come home so late – or rather, early in the morning – it was doubtful that he would be up before noon.

The thought of her son made her chest tighten with worry and she let out a heavy breath.

"What is it?" Bruce asked, pushing up to lean against his elbow and gave her a searching look.

Hermione pressed her lips together and turned to lie on her back. She glanced at him and then stared at the ceiling, trying to think what to say about Hugo – what she _could_ say – since Bruce wasn't aware that Hugo was actually working, and thought that Hugo merely spent a lot of his time with his friends, studying and not. Hugo probably seemed like a typical teenager or young adult to Bruce.

"…Is it Harry? You're worried about him, aren't you?" Bruce asked quietly, squeezing her hand.

Hermione nodded, giving him a helpless look. "Well, yes, but I was actually thinking about Hugo. He has changed quite a lot," she said wearily. "He and Rose are both… somewhat overachievers, they always have been…"

"Can't imagine why." Bruce said simply.

Hermione briefly narrowed her eyes at him.

Bruce suppressed a smile. "Go on."

Hermione sighed. "I was like that, in school," she said and pursed her lips at Bruce's pointed look. "Fine," she huffed, "I might still be like that. But during my schoolyears, it got…worse," she said, grimacing at the thought of sleeping through class and losing the sense of _time,_ as well as losing her temper at her friends and classmates, and having panic-stricken nightmares about her time turner sending her to nonexistence the next time she would use it.

"I had spread myself too thin, and without the support of my friends, it would've got a lot worse. Well, I did suffer a nervous breakdown of sorts, but –" Hermione said and frowned at the ceiling, her thoughts on her two children, who both had taken very similar paths than she had, with Rose's obsessive studying, career plans and her eventual breaking point, and Hugo's unnatural working hours and changed behaviour. – "I'm afraid I won't be enough when it comes to supporting my children…"

Bruce pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. "You are, I'm sure of it, Hermione. You are their mother – of course you are enough." He said softly, and Hermione let herself relax in his arms.

Her thoughts flickered to the previous night, and how glad she had been to see her friends, and see Harry doing so well. Of course, not everything had been magically fixed during his short period of treatment. But Harry was getting better, enough so, to agree to meet Bruce for the first time, and spend a night with him, which was already a lot to handle, even without him being a muggle – which meant all magic-related topics were forbidden, as well as doing actual magic around him.

Ginny too had seemed like she was doing well, and had had a rather long discussion with Bruce about muggle physics at some point of the night. Of course, living with Harry – who had been raised by muggles – had given Ginny some form of understanding about muggle culture, but Hermione knew Harry and Ginny both preferred magic over the muggle way, if they were presented the option. Luckily, Bruce hadn't seemed to think anything of the fact that his hosts were both rather curious of him and kept asking him all sorts of questions throughout the night – and probably had thought it as a general curiosity towards a friend's date.

It had been a rather pleasant night, and both Harry and Ginny had got along with Bruce brilliantly. The only inconvenience in the whole night – if the few odd occasions of Harry and Ginny blurting out a wizarding word or expression were not considered – was when Bruce had asked Harry what he was doing for a living. Hermione was sure Harry's answer had been discussed between Harry and Ginny very thoroughly after Hermione and Bruce had left Winkfield late at night, as it was something that had been bothering her as well…

_Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek, feeling somewhat nervous about the evening as she and Bruce stood outside of the Potter house and waited for the door to be opened. Based on what Ginny had told her and what Hermione had witnessed herself the previous week, she knew Harry was doing so much better than he had a month ago. It wasn't just because he was seeing the Mind Healer. It was also clear that he wanted to be better, and to be around others again._

_Bruce squeezed her shoulder, and gave her a reassuring look, which made Hermione's apprehension melt away. He knew some of it – of Harry's situation – but certainly not any specifics. Still, Bruce was very much aware that Hermione had worried for her friends for quite some time now._

_Ginny opened the door a moment later, a bright smile on her lips._

_"Hermione! Bruce!" Ginny said, her brow arching a bit at Hermione's expression, before she stepped aside in the hallway. "Come on in!"_

_She was wearing a dark green, long sleeved satin dress and she looked absolutely beautiful, with her hair in an artfully careless do on the back of her neck. Hermione, on the other hand had spent a rather long while putting her hair in order, since without magic it took more than a few products to do so._

_They stepped inside and took off their coats, before Ginny led them past the stairs lining the wall, that were decorated with a simple Christmas garland with twinkling lights – which Hermione had to furtively check, to make sure they were actually muggle and not live fairies._

_The Potter house was rather spacious – and it had to be with three to four children, as Teddy had lived with them for some years, after Andromeda had been offered a position in Beauxbatons and had been in a desperate need of a change of scenery – with six bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs, while everything else: kitchen, dining room, sitting room, library, study and drawing room were on the ground floor._

_As Ginny guided them forward, Hermione's eyes flickered to the festive garlands on top of the entrance of each room and when they reached the drawing room, there was a magnificent Christmas tree on the other side of the room, visible through the open doorway._

_"It's beautiful, Gin," Hermione said softly, and smiled at her friend as she walked into the room._

_Ginny had obviously put a lot of effort decorating the spacious room: different sizes of wreaths were hanging from the top of the windows, the mantel was decorated by mistletoe, candles and embroidered Christmas stockings, while soft tunes of Christmas carols were carrying around the room. Muggle carols._

_For a moment, Hermione wondered where the music was coming from, and if Ginny had managed to access some muggle radio station by the wizarding wireless, but then she spotted an actual muggle radio in the corner. Hermione and Ginny had naturally agreed that no magic was to be cast during Hermione's and Bruce's visit, and even discussing anything related to magic was off the table in front of Bruce. Hermione was adamant to not be placed in a position where she would be forced to use a memory charm on him. She knew enough how they affected one's mind. Her parents had never properly recovered from the one she had put upon them._

_"You have a very lovely home," Bruce said politely as he looked around the room._

_Ginny grinned. "Thank you. I quite like it. Now, sit down and make yourself at home, I'll be right back!" She said lightly and dashed towards the kitchen, where Hermione presumed Harry was situated, preparing their dinner._

_Hermione and Bruce sat down on a sofa next to the fireplace, in the other end of the room. It was already dark outside, but Hermione could see some of the magnificent grounds, trees and ponds through the glass doors that led to the well-lit terrace. She detected the shed further away – the one where Harry had spent a lot of his time for the past months, and wondered, how her friend was feeling after having to take down some of his wards so that Bruce could even see their house, let alone enter it._

_"What are you thinking?" Bruce asked quietly, watching Hermione closely._

_Hermione gave him a tight smile. "Oh, it's nothing," She lied, not really wanting to talk about Harry when the man was in the next room._

_Bruce nodded. "Is it about Hugo?" He asked. On their way to Winkfield, she had told him that there was something going on in Hugo's life, and that she had tried to talk to him for some time now._

_Hermione sighed. "No." She muttered, knowing that it was pointless to talk about him now, when there were a hundred of other things she could worry, for example, having dinner in a wizarding home with a muggle. She would talk to Hugo the next day._

_Before Bruce was able to do anything else but frown at Hermione, Ginny came back, followed by Harry. They stood up as their hosts came closer, and while Harry and Bruce shook hands, Ginny gave Hermione a glass of Champagne, before handing one for Bruce._

_Harry offered a simple toast and then they all sipped their drinks quietly, only Christmas music echoing softly in the room._

_"So…" Ginny said after an awkward silence. "…This is what a Christmas party without children is like…" She said with a contemplating voice, glancing at the others._

_Hermione blinked at her, as did Harry. She glanced at Bruce, unsure if he had understood Ginny's joke, but Bruce was already nodding at Ginny, a similar thoughtful expression on his face._

_"True," He said. "However, the night is still young," Bruce said with a deadpan look._

_Harry snorted, while Ginny smirked at Bruce. "Knew you'd be a secret party animal," she said and gestured at the sofa. "Shall we?"_

_They sat down and chatted for a while, mostly about Bruce, as Ginny asked him many questions – all surprisingly courteous ones – before they moved to the dining room._

_The dinner was delicious: they started off with cranberry brie bites, and moved onto roast beef, roasted red potatoes and brussels sprouts which were accompanied by parmesan salad. Ginny, to Harry's evident embarrassment, proudly told them that it was all done by Harry._

_When Ginny asked Hermione to help her bring their dessert to the table – gingerbread eggnog – she whirled towards her friend the moment the dining room door closed behind them._

_"What's going on, Hermione?" Ginny asked with a small frown between her brows as they walked towards the kitchen. "You've seemed a bit off since you came here?"_

_Hermione smiled tightly at her friend. "It's nothing – I had a thing with Hugo today, and then I've been worrying over nothing, apparently, that Harry might be uncomfortable around Bruce…"_

_Ginny waved a hand in dismissal. "He's fine –" she started, but when Hermione lifted her brows at her, she quickly continued – "well, you know what I mean, of course he's not_ fine _, fine…but he doesn't seem overcome by this," Ginny said and walked to the cupboard to pull out four wide cocktail glasses from the cooling cabinet._

_Hermione watched as Ginny put the glasses with light brown liquid on the bottom and whipped cream on top on the table. "How is it going with him? How are you?" Hermione asked and walked further into the room, towards her friend._

_Ginny shrugged and glanced at Hermione. "I'm thrilled that he has been making so much progress during the past month, but…" she sighed._

_"But what?" Hermione asked, watching closely at her friend's features._

_Ginny bit her lip. "It's still so… hard to make a simple conversation with him at times, and others…"_

_"What?" Hermione prompted quietly._

_Ginny looked away. "It feels like sometimes…he's someone I haven't even met before."_

_Hermione frowned at her friend, not really knowing what to say to her. "Give him time, Gin. I'm sure the Harry you know will be there, when he has processed everything he needs," Hermione said gently, placing a hand on Ginny's shoulder._

_Ginny swallowed deeply, before turning to look at Hermione, a tight but wide smile on her lips. She was evidently trying hard to not let it bother her. Hermione felt bad for her friend, since Ginny had endured so much already, and had deserved some normalcy in her life._

_"I'm fine, Mione." Ginny said determinedly. "Now – let's get sloshed, shall we?" She said lightly and grabbed two glasses and marched towards the door._

_"You – what?" Hermione stammered, and blinked at the two remaining glasses. She hoped there wasn't too much of alcohol in the eggnog._

_Five minutes later, she was coughing after taking a sip of the boozy drink, which got a smirk from Ginny, and snorts from both Harry and Bruce._

_The two men had been talking while Ginny and Hermione had been in the kitchen, and they continued to do so while they enjoyed their desserts. Hermione watched them both, and saw how relaxed Harry had become, as he listened Bruce to explain some unfortunate incident that had happened in one of Bruce's family gatherings the previous weekend, when his niece had lost her temper as one of her uncles – one of Bruce's four brothers – had tried to guide her in her life, thus causing quite an uproar at dinner._

_"It's odd, if you think of it," Harry said with a contemplative look. "You think you know how they think, how they work, since – well – you've been in their shoes, but in the end, it's not the same, is it?" Harry said, and Bruce nodded in agreement._

_Harry frowned at the table before looking at Bruce, "I mean, I've had my share of problems with my kids – the difficulty of connecting with them, the unawareness of their way of thinking…" He said and chuckled. "And they didn't even blow up any of their aunts!"_

_Both Hermione and Ginny nearly choked on their drinks, and Hermione coughed loudly, trying to catch Bruce's attention. And while Bruce eyed Hermione with a concern in his expression, patting her back, Ginny elbowed Harry hard on the side, a warning look in her eyes._

_Harry cleared his throat and shrugged at Bruce. "I mean, I was a right menace to my aunt, growing up…" He muttered, and proceeded to gulp down the rest of his drink._

_They finished their eggnogs and continued discussing different matters, before retreating back to the drawing room. Ginny joined the rest of them a bit later, with a tray of drinks – something she insisted calling 'Christmosas'._

_Hermione smiled as her friend moved the discussion to Bruce's job, seeming to be rather curious about muggle physics. Bruce was happy to talk about the subject, and when the topic turned to Ginny's job, Hermione was pleasantly surprised that Ginny had thought of a fabricated job for herself, that resembled a lot of her actual one. She told Bruce that she had previously played in the England women's national football team, and was now co-coaching it. Hermione was equally relieved that Bruce didn't really have any further questions about Ginny's explanations, and merely nodded and listened her carefully._

_Hermione's relaxed mood disappeared rather quickly, when Bruce inquired what Harry did for a living._

_"Er," Harry muttered, rubbing his neck while he leaned back in his armchair. "I'm in law enforcement. But I'm taking some time off from work at the moment," he said with a certain tightness in his voice._

_Bruce gave him an understanding nod._

_Hermione exchanged a worried look with Ginny, and was surprised when Harry continued._

_"I've been going through something lately, but," Harry said, glancing at Hermione and Ginny, "I've thought of going back – I want to go back." He said resolutely._

_Ginny looked utterly taken aback. "W-What?" She whispered, staring at Harry._

_Harry clenched his jaw and looked at Ginny. "I want to go back to work in the field."_

_Ginny gasped. Hermione gaped at Harry._

_It was certainly unexpected._

_"No!" Ginny hissed, gathering surprised looks from everyone. She blushed slightly, but kept her gaze – that resembled much of a glare – firmly at Harry._

_Harry looked calmly back at her. "Gin. Not now."_

_Ginny blinked, her eyes moving quickly at Bruce and Hermione, who sat on the sofa, before she shook her head and muttered, "Of course. We'll talk later." She said, a certain coolness in her voice._

_Needless to say, the air was a bit tense afterwards. Harry's comment about his job wasn't mentioned, but it was certainly not forgotten, based on the looks Ginny and Harry kept throwing at each other for the rest of the night._

_Later that night, before Hermione and Bruce were about to leave, Hermione asked if the others wouldn't mind if she exchanged a couple of words with Harry in private._

_They slipped into the small and dark sitting room next to the drawing room. Harry stood in the middle of the room, keeping his back on Hermione._

_"Harry…"_

_Harry sighed wearily. "Don't, Hermione. I've made up my mind…"_

_Hermione huffed. "Then look at me and tell that to my face." She said sharply, keeping her voice quiet._

_Harry turned around and stared at her, his expression serious. "I want to go back to the field."_

_Hermione shook her head slightly, trying to understand, why,_ why _would he want to go back to field work? Wouldn't it be better to go back to where he had been for the past decade or so – which was a desk job, as the department head. "I don't understand, Harry. Help me understand…"_

_Harry walked closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I don't want to fear life, Hermione. I want to live it. And being an Auror – at field – they were my happiest years." He said sincerely._

_Hermione frowned at him, and felt uncertain if she could say what she wanted to say. "I don't want to be insensitive," she finally said and continued, "…but – but are you actually fit to work there?" She asked and grimaced._

_Harry let out an amused huff, his lips curving slightly up, while disappointment flickered into his eyes._

_Hermione's lips turned down. "I'm sorry."_

_He shrugged and squeezed her shoulders. "Wouldn't have expected anything less from you."_

_"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked, concern still filling the bottom of her stomach._

_Harry dropped his hands to hang against his sides. "What about her?" He asked, almost indifferently._

_She wanted to shake him, to force some ounce of sense into him. Harry was considering to be an Auror once again, and didn't even care what Ginny thought of the matter? And on top of all, he thought he would be mentally fit to work as an Auror._

_"Did she ask when she wanted to play professionally? Or when she stopped playing?" Harry asked, his jaw tight._

_Hermione gasped and gave him an incredulous look. "That is not the same thing, and you know it!" She said sharply._

_Harry lifted his hands up in a calming gesture, his expression relaxing somewhat as his eyes moved over her face. "I know. You're right," he said mutedly._

_"Harry…" Hermione said quietly, her eyes searching his. She desperately wanted to understand what in the name of Merlin was going on in his head, but she couldn't. "Please think this through before you do any decisions, and talk to Ginny. Please?"_

_Harry watched her silently for a while, before he nodded and pulled her into his arms, into a soft embrace._

_"You're always worrying for me, Mione. But you don't have to…" He said with a low voice._

_Hermione huffed, feeling rather emotional. "Yes, I do." She whispered. Because, she had always worried for him, and why would she stop now?_

_He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, you do." He muttered, echoing her words._

* * *

Bruce left a bit after ten in the morning, and Hermione stood in the quiet hallway for a long moment, looking at the stairs. She wondered when Hugo would wake up, and if he would finally be in a mood to have a discussion with her regarding his apprenticeship.

She ran the past week in her head, pointing out every occasion she had seen Hugo after last Sunday, when he had been at home the whole day, except during dinner, which he had spent at Ron's place with Rose.

After the previous Sunday, Hugo had gone to work early on Monday morning, before Hermione had awoken, which had to be sometime before five-thirty in the morning. He had stayed at the hospital until late on Monday evening, barely nodding at her and Bruce before he had walked past the sitting room and dragged himself upstairs, where he had slept until Tuesday morning. The next time she had seen him, had been Wednesday afternoon. Hugo had been bleary eyed, telling her that he needed to 'crash' for a bit, and then had slept until early the next morning.

Glimpses and quickly exchanged words were what she could use to describe her life with her son, for the past weeks – or even months. They had managed to have a brief conversation the previous day, when Hermione had been alone in the kitchen and making breakfast early in the morning. Hugo had joined her for a moment, but had left rather hastily when she had told him that she wanted to have a discussion with him about his apprenticeship. She hadn't really had several chances of doing so, as whenever Hugo had been at home, Bruce had been around as well, and Hermione knew they couldn't even try to disguise the discussion regarding Hugo's apprenticeship into a muggle-conversation.

Hermione had been disappointed but understanding, when Hugo had made his excuses and had told her that he had a friend at the hospital, and that he was going to pop by there to drop her some books, even though he wasn't going to work that day. He had told Hermione, that he would be back in a couple of hours, and that they could have their conversation then.

He hadn't come back home. At least, not before four in the afternoon, when Bruce had picked her up for the dinner at Potters. She didn't even know whether Hugo _had_ a friend in the hospital, or if it had been a mere lie to throw her off his back. Needless to say, she had been upset and taken aback by his behaviour.

It had been bothering her quite a lot lately – his long hours at the hospital, his mood swings, which she thought were the product of him working too hard, and not resting enough. She wanted to go upstairs and force him to sit there and listen what she had to say, but at the same time, she wanted him to sleep as it seemed that he hadn't been sleeping enough the past few weeks.

She sighed and decided to spend some time in her library with a good book and a cup of tea.

An hour or so later, she was midway her volume when she heard Rose's voice in the hallway.

"…Mum?"

"In the library," Hermione called and lowered her book.

Moments later Rose appeared in the doorway.

She was positively glowing. "Hello, darling," Hermione said with a warm smile and stood up to hug her daughter when Rose walked further into the room.

Hermione pulled back from the embrace and held on to Rose's shoulders, studying her features. "You look…different. In a very good way," she said, already guessing it had something to do with a certain young man. "Is it Nick we should be thanking for that?" She asked airily and sat back down in her armchair.

Rose huffed and rolled her eyes. "Does a good mood have to have something to do with a man?" She asked wryly, and sat on the sofa opposite to Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "No. But I assume this time it is."

There was a light tinge of redness on Rose's cheeks, and she looked away with an indifferent look. "What about your own apparent happiness this lovely morning?" She asked, glancing at Hermione. "I assume Bruce stayed here for the night?"

Hermione pursed her lips at her daughter. "He did, and I trust you already know how happy he makes me."

Rose grimaced. "Too much information, mum." When Hermione gave her a shocked look, Rose quickly continued, "kidding!" She said and smirked at her. "I know," she added with a softer voice.

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, tell me about him. When are you bringing him here?"

Rose guffawed. "Never?" She asked with a weak voice.

"I'm not that bad!" Hermione said and gave her daughter a frown.

Rose sighed and snuggled into the corner of the sofa, lifting her legs on it and pulling them closer to her body. "I suppose you're not, but you're also one-third of the Golden Trio – and I know it might not mean anything to you, but it definitely means something to everyone else in the wizarding world!" she continued sharply, when she saw Hermione opening her mouth in order to argue with her.

"He's… lovely," Rose said quietly after a short silence.

Hermione watched her daughter carefully. She seemed quite happy and infatuated with the boy, and Hermione listened quietly as Rose told her more about him – about his job, his friends, and where they had gone on dates. She wondered, as her daughter spoke, if Rose was finally finding some direction in her life, as it had seemed that she had been somewhat lost for a quite some time.

Hermione knew that Rose being lost had had something to do with Scorpius – she had heard some of it from Hugo – and knowing her daughter, Hermione had thought for a long time that they would end up back together again. After all, the boy had been a part of Rose's life one way or another for many years.

"I'm happy for you, Rose," Hermione said after Rose had finished her explanation. "I hope you'll bring him here for tea some time. When you feel you're ready for it."

Rose nodded slowly. She glanced at the door. "Is Hugo home?"

Hermione didn't miss the small flicker of worry in her eyes. "Yes. He's sleeping still."

Rose pursed her lips and stood up. She was out of the door before Hermione could say a word to prevent her.

Hermione sat in the library for a moment and let out a weary sigh as she heard her eldest to wake her brother in the most indelicate way – by slamming his door open and yelling him to drag his sorry arse downstairs and help them prepare lunch.

Hermione went to the dining room, shaking her head. Their lunch – salmon salad – wasn't going to need much of preparing, and Hermione assumed Rose knew as much.

"Did you have to do that, Rose?" Hermione asked when Rose joined her in the dining room moments later. She started to set the table as Rose leaned against the wall next to a cupboard. "What?" Hermione added, as she saw Rose's pensive look.

"Have you talked with him?" Rose asked quietly, glancing at the open doorway.

Hermione stilled, three plates clutched in her hands. Of course she had talked to him, but Hugo always dodged her questions whenever they regarded his apprenticeship. She _wanted_ to talk to him, to make sure he was all right, since some days, he definitely didn't seem like he was all right.

"I think he's –" Rose started, but was interrupted by Hugo, who appeared in the doorway, wearing slightly rumpled dark trousers and a t shirt. His hair was an utter disaster, and Hermione's briefly thought he was lucky to have his father's hair texture. Had it been Hermione's, no muggle method would help him after letting it remain tangled for too long.

"He's what?" Hugo asked easily, a grin tugging his lips. He walked further to pull Rose into a crushing hug. "Handsome?" He asked, and Rose scrunched up her face in distaste. He moved to give Hermione a quick hug and took the plates from her hands. "Good mannered?" He asked with a smirk, and started to set the table.

It made Hermione smile, to see him so… cheerful.

They set the table, during which Hermione told her children about seeing Harry and Ginny the previous night, and the couple of mildly amusing occurrences there had been during the evening, before they went to the kitchen to prepare the lunch.

Rose eyed her brother with a scrutinising look as they sat down to eat. "So, Hugo – did you tell mum what dad asked to ask from her last week?" Rose inquired.

Hugo pursed his lips but his cheeks coloured somewhat. "Slipped my mind."

Rose gave him a wry look. "Which means you've been working all day and night again, haven't you?"

"Sod off, Rose." Hugo hissed, his hand shaking slightly before he grabbed his fork in a tight grip.

While Rose rolled her eyes, Hermione frowned at them both. "What does your father want you to ask from me?" She asked, not feeling pleased about Rose's jab at Hugo, but too curious to not ask about what Ronald had wanted.

Rose sighed and looked apologetic. "Um. He asked if we could spend the Christmas day with him, Lavender and Jasmine," she said with a grimace.

Hermione's brows lifted up. They had agreed several years ago that their children would split the holidays evenly, and every other year it would be Hermione's 'turn', and every other, Ron's. But now, their children were adults, and perfectly free to decide how to spend their holidays, regardless if it was Hermione's 'turn' this year or not.

Hermione sighed and eyed Rose and Hugo with a serious look. "If you really want to go to your father's place, you are of course free to do so. You don't _have_ to spend Christmas with me, or either of us, if you do not wish so," she said, giving her children a reassuring smile.

"But – what about you?" Hugo asked sharply. "If we're to go to dad's – you'd come as well? I mean, he did say you'd be welcome to come."

Hermione gave Hugo a very pointed look, as if asking if he was genuinely inquiring her that. "I'm quite all right whatever your decision will be, but I'm afraid I will not be spending my holidays with your father and his new family," Hermione said simply, trying not to sound like a bitter hag.

She wasn't bitter. It had taken some time to get over with the fact that Ronald had moved on to a new spouse faster than one could say Snitch, but she had come to terms with it. She just didn't feel close enough to them to spend a holiday together – or any day, for that matter.

The yearly Christmas Eve dinner at the Burrow was enough. She would see them there, and they would all be polite, and exchange a few pleasantries. But that was it. Hermione would leave early, after a few hours, like she did every year, promising Molly and Arthur – who were both still warm and welcoming towards her – to come back another time, which she did. But without Ron's company.

They ate in silence, before Hermione cleared her throat and eyed her son. "Did you manage to take those books to your friend, Hugo?"

Hugo was pushing the food around on his plate, his leg tapping against the floor.

"What?" Hugo asked absently, staring at his plate, before whirling to look at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Hermione watched him quietly for a moment, before she continued, aware that Rose was watching them both closely. "And were you held up by something, seeing as you didn't come back two hours after you left?" She asked simply.

Hugo flinched. "Uh. Yeah."

Rose frowned at Hugo from the other side of the table. "What's the matter with you?"

Hugo's eyes narrowed slightly at his sister. "What do you mean?" He asked, irritation evident in his voice. "Nothing." He grunted and glanced at Hermione, "I was asked to work, that's all." He said with finality in his voice.

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes tracing his features. Hugo looked somewhat fidgeting and nervous. His earlier charming mood had suddenly changed into something else entirely.

She took in a calming breath. "Could we have that discussion I was hoping to have with you yesterday?" Hermione asked, fixing an unwavering look at her son.

Hugo's features became expressionless. "No. I don't wanna talk about my work, mum, how many times do I have to say that?" He asked bluntly, his voice rising.

"Hugo!" Rose scoffed, gaping at him.

Hugo stood up swiftly from his seat. "I'm fine. I'm just bloody tired of everyone thinking they have a say what I should do with my life, like I'm still some kid!" He said harshly, and then stomped away, running upstairs.

Hermione grit her teeth together and stared at Hugo's nearly full plate. Something was definitely up and she didn't know what.

"What the hell, mum?" Rose asked incredulously, her eyes moving between Hermione and the door.

Hermione sighed. "Let it go, Rose." She said tiredly. "He'll come to his senses eventually."

Rose shook her head at the table, evidently disagreeing with Hermione. She stayed silent for a long moment, before she told Hermione that it was time for her to leave towards her father's place, and that she would text her later. Hermione said her goodbyes to her daughter, thinking that Rose was probably as worried for Hugo as she was.

* * *

Hermione had always enjoyed being outside and getting fresh air, which was why she had developed a habit of taking long walks whenever she had the opportunity. She was always able to sort out whatever problems she had going on, or at least think of a plan for them. This time, it was her own son, and his life that had been bothering her, especially after what had happened the previous day, and how he had behaved during their lunch.

She usually preferred the nearby parks, but as it was already dark, she had decided to walk along the riverside. Hermione sighed, barely noticing the beautiful, illuminated buildings and their mirrored images in the Thames. Her mind was working furiously, worrying over Hugo, who had been acting rather oddly for some time now, lashing out at her from the smallest of things, being his normal, polite and curious self at times, while barely noticing her at others.

And Hermione didn't know what to do about it – how to help him. She was certain he was working too much, because what else could explain his sudden mood swings, his occasional nervousness and his absent-mindedness?

He had made it clear, more than once, that he didn't want to talk about his apprenticeship. Hermione was torn between thinking of letting him figure things out by himself, and of intervening in his life. Or rather, the way he was living his life.

Two hours later, she returned to her home, having decided that she would do what she could – which was telling him that she was there, and ready to listen whenever he felt the need to it. It wouldn't be right to _force_ him to listen, because he wouldn't listen then. He would come to her eventually if he so deemed, Hermione was sure of it.

She stepped into the quiet house, and at first, she thought Hugo had left to his father's place, but was surprised to see him in the sitting room, sleeping on the sofa, a peaceful expression on his face.

Hermione stood there for a moment, smiling at him. She then took the wool blanket from the other end of the sofa and put it carefully over him, before heading upstairs to shower and do her nightly routine.

In her bedroom, when she took out her clothes from her wardrobe, to be ready for the next day, something caught her attention.

One of her wardrobe doors – the one she kept locked by magic – was cracked open.

She blinked, frozen on the spot. Had she left it open? Had it been like that when Bruce had been there? Had he looked inside?

Anticipation trickled down her spine as she walked hastily to the door and opened it to reveal the shelves inside.

She glanced at the various potions in different sizes of vials and bottles, all still shimmering brightly under the stasis charms she had put over them. Her eyes moved over the several small boxes where she kept the ingredients, to the cauldron and a heat source on one shelf, to the potion making utensils – a cutting board and knives, a scale, test tubes and a rack, a mortar and a pestle, a beaker, empty flasks, bottles and jars and stirring sticks – but nothing was out of order. However, she wondered if there would even be a disorder, if Bruce had merely looked inside the wardrobe?

Hermione frowned and glanced at her perfectly made bed. She was quite sure that the door had been closed in the morning, as she would've seen it from her bed. Which meant…

She stared at the potions once more. And then, she realised, that several vials were missing.


	18. Hugo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sticking with the story! If you have any thoughts you'd want to share regarding this fic, please do so: I love hearing your feedback!

**Chapter 18: Hugo**

**Friday, 19 December 2025**

Hugo woke up to a sharp knock on his bedroom door. His head felt fuzzy, and he had to focus hard on the present moment in order to clear his mind. The moment he remembered who he was and what had happened, emptiness and nausea filled his stomach, twisting his insides.

He had made quite the mess for himself, and it wasn’t something a simple promise of ‘I’ll do better next time’ would fix. No, Hugo had really buggered things up beyond all reasonable doubt.

It was late afternoon already, and Hugo had slept over twenty-four hours. He had chosen to do so, because otherwise, his mind would have kept replaying the few hours he had spent at the hospital the previous day, like it was now doing…

_“You’re here early,” Olivia said and glanced at him over her shoulder, when Hugo stepped into the small covered garden on the hospital roof._

_Hugo blinked as the warm breeze and scent of pansies and roses hit him. Small and green stunted trees surrounded the space, acting as walls, while hanging vines covered the ceiling and most of the sky. There were two small seating areas and one bench in the midst of lanterns, colourful shrubs and flowers that were placed all around the space, on the ground or hanging from the ceiling._

_He had heard rumours about the garden – which had obviously been charmed, as the temperature was quite different from what was outside, and resembled more of a warm summer night._

_Olivia was the only one there, sitting on the bench, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, looking at ease, like it was her usual routine to have her morning tea there._

_And as Hugo thought more about it, he reckoned that perhaps it was. It had been Olivia who had told him about the garden in the first place, and explained him where to go, and how to get in._

_Apparently, the garden wasn’t a ‘secret’, but wasn’t widely spoken about, since the hospital wanted to provide some peace and quietness in certain situations. Which, Olivia explained, was a polite way of speaking about patients who were alone or possibly dying and stayed at the hospital for longer than it was healthy._

_It was also one of the few places where muggle phones worked in the hospital, the other one being a quiet storage wing on the first floor that was used by the majority of those patients who had to contact their friends and family by muggle methods._

_Hugo had been surprised that Olivia had been aware of that bit of information, since while he knew St Mungo’s had areas where phones worked adequately, he had thought that she didn’t. Hugo had assumed she didn’t own a phone and had understood that she wasn’t really aware of muggle technology, as she had been raised in a wizarding home. He had been right – about the phone – but Olivia had told him at the end of his last visit that she had thought about looking into it._

_For a brief moment he had thought, who she would call._

_“Too measly for your tastes?” Olivia asked wryly, putting her book and tea down on the nearby table._

_Hugo looked away, after realising that he had been staring at her for some time, instead of the space around them. He cleared his throat and walked towards her, giving her a light shrug._

_“It’s all right,” he said and arched a brow at her, “although, I am rather disappointed to find out about this only now, after practically living here for the past four and a half months…” he muttered and sat down next to her._

_Olivia let out a quiet snort and rolled her eyes. “Please.” She said pointedly._

_Hugo smirked at her, not missing her unsaid words. How she had actually lived there for over a year. But as promised, he wouldn’t pity her, and tried not to make a big deal out of her condition. What he had understood, was that she simply needed someone to talk to, not about her illness, but everything else in the world._

_He looked at her, and except for the dark patches under her eyes, she didn’t really look sick that day. She was dressed in a muggle way, in simple cardigan and loose trousers, and she seemed rather cheerful._

_Hugo knew it could all be different the next day, because in the end, she had a terminal illness. He had seen her in a lot worse condition during the past couple of weeks, but knew that what he had witnessed, hadn’t been the worst she had been, or would be._

_Olivia sighed and looked around them. “It is rather pretty,” she said simply, and then gave Hugo – who was already dressed in his lime-green robes – a once over. “Anything interesting to look forward today? Besides the usual broom crashes and household accidents?”_

_Hugo hummed thoughtfully and watched as the candles in the nearby lanterns flickered lightly. “I work in the Accidental spells and Emergencies – I’d say there’s at least one interesting case to look forward every day.”_

_Only the previous day, there had been a couple – a young wizard and witch, who had somehow managed to glue each other together, from everywhere else but their heads. They had both been unclothed and had told the Healers that they had been experimenting with potions. In the end, the Healers had managed to separate their bodies. And the day before that, there had been a wizard who had had high heels instead of…feet. Apparently, they had been transfigured by his jealous ex, who hadn’t even known how she had been able to do such a spell, let alone reverse it._

_Olivia had laughed heartily when Hugo had popped by to chat with her at the end of his shift and had told her bits and pieces about his peculiar cases._

_“Oh, by the way, I’m almost finished reading the books you brought last weekend,” She said and nodded her head at the book that lay on the table. Another physics book._

_Hugo’s lips twitched. “Still obsessed by physics, I presume?”_

_Olivia let out a small huff. “I’ll admit it is rather intriguing. But it’s not like I_ _have a grand library in my disposal where I could select whatever l want…” She said mutedly._

_Hugo chewed the inside of his cheek and watched her with a small frown between his brows. Perhaps he should’ve inquired more what she wanted to read? After all, his mother’s library was rather impressive. Perhaps there was something else that would interest her more?_

_“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Hugo,” she said quickly after seeing the change in his expression._

_Olivia reached out to place her hand over his, which was resting on the bench between them. “I’ve honestly loved every word I’ve read. Don’t mind me,” she said with a rueful smile, pulling her hand away._

_Hugo blinked at the sudden cold and empty feeling._

_“I just envy you, you know,” She continued, watching him studiously. “At the end of the day, you get to leave this place, and live your life.”_

_Before Hugo could respond, she lifted her brows at him. “Well, I mean, you probably don’t have any life outside of your training, since you’re always here,” she said wryly._

_Hugo scoffed. “I have a life outside of my training.”_

_“Oh, really?” Olivia asked curiously. “How’re your sisters doing? Is there anything new in their lives? What about your cousins? And you? Are you dating anyone exciting?” She asked, keeping her face blank, while her eyes were dancing with amusement._

_Hugo narrowed his eyes at her. “Shut up. I_ have _a life outside of my training. I see my family often enough. Jasmin’s a three-year-old – there always something new in her life,” Hugo said and rolled his eyes while Olivia sniggered lightly – “and Rose is still dating Nick, and she’s still stuck in the same boring job in which she has been for the past year and a half, and while she hates it at times, she doesn’t do anything to change it.”_

_He didn’t really want to talk about his non-existent dating life with her, or with anyone else. He didn’t have time or energy for relationships, and he was quite happy about his decisions._

_Olivia nodded slowly, evidently guessing his thoughts as she didn’t ask more of the subject. After a moment, she spoke with a serious expression. “Just to make myself clear: I’ll gladly read whatever you bring me.” She moved her gaze away and continued with a softer voice, “Anything is better than nothing, because the alternative would be to ponder over my lousy life…”_

_Hugo watched her in silence. She didn’t speak that often about her current situation – whenever they talked about her, it was always about her childhood. But mostly, they talked about Hugo. Or books._

_He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands against his knees, the fabric of his robes bunching slightly. “I could owl you?” He asked unsurely, “I mean, the next time I’m picking up books for you from that ‘grand library’ of mine,” he said with a mild smirk._

_Olivia sniffed in amusement and looked at her hands. “I have a phone now.”_

_Hugo’s brows lifted up in surprise. “Oh?” He wanted to take the piss out of her and ask if she actually knew how to use it, but in the end, what came out from his mouth was, “Could I have your phone number?”_

_Olivia blinked at him, looking slightly taken aback. Hugo could feel the skin in his neck heating up as he held her gaze and tried to figure out what had made him ask her number._

_After a moment, she gave him a small nod. “Um. Sure,” she said and proceeded to pull the device from the pocket of her trousers, before giving him a hesitant look, “If I’d know my number…” She said and cringed._

_Hugo laughed tensely and held out his hand. “Give me your phone, tech whiz.”_

_Olivia arched a brow at him and pressed the phone in his palm. “I’m rather certain that that wasn’t meant to be a compliment, but I’ll let it slide for now…”_

_Hugo chuckled quietly and made a quick call to his own number, before he saved his contact to Olivia’s phone and gave it back to her._

_“It’s all sorted,” he said, and glanced at the timepiece on his wrist, knowing that he was already late from his shift. “Gotta go now,” he said with a mild grimace and stood up. He hesitated for a bit when Olivia too stood up._

_“Um. I you want to chat, feel free to call or text me,” he said, feeling suddenly too warm. He quickly turned to leave, eager to leave her company and return to the cooler temperature in the hospital._

_“…How do I text?” Olivia asked right before Hugo reached the door._

_He turned slightly to glance at her and gave her a smirk. He then walked through the door and made his way towards the ground floor._

_Two hours later, Hugo’s shift had barely started and he had already treated several potion and spell related emergencies – some of them alone, and some with his superior Healers. He was on his way back to the secretary’s station to see if there was anything urgent, or if he ought to start the rounds and check upon the handful of patients who had stayed overnight in the emergency ward, when Healer Anderson – Hugo’s superior and the department head – called his name as Hugo rushed past his office._

_Hugo turned around and walked to the doorway. “Healer Anderson,” Hugo said with a polite nod._

_He usually didn’t even see Anderson during his shifts, unless he was assisting the man in some complex case. The senior Healer in their department treated most of their rare and critical patients, but otherwise he was kept busy by running their department and communicating with other organisations and parties in the wizarding and muggle world, since most of St Mungo’s patients came through their department._

_“Come on in. I was just about to send Mrs Baker to ask you to stop by.” Anderson said with his usual cool voice._

_Anderson was a tall wizard in his sixties, with black-and-grey hair and strong and well-defined features. He was rarely seen in anything but neatly tailored robes or a suit. He never smiled, and there was always a certain coldness in his stare. Still, Hugo respected him deeply – he was impartial, treated his subordinates equally and wanted them to do well. He was nothing but professional with his patients, and he was probably the most talented wizard Hugo had ever met. And it was saying a lot, since Hugo’s mother was who she was._

_Hugo nodded and closed the door behind him, walking further into the room. “Everything okay?” Hugo asked, when Anderson gestured at the two chairs opposite to him, on the other side of his desk._

_Hugo sat silently, while Anderson stared at the table between them, his heavy brows pulled into a deep frown. Right before Anderson lifted his gaze to meet Hugo’s, he knew what it was about. Why Anderson had asked him to be there._

_“Something worrisome has come to my attention.” Anderson said grimly, his eyes moving over Hugo’s face._

_Hugo swallowed hard under the inspection, suddenly hoping that the floor would swallow him whole._

_Anderson’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You do know what I’m talking about, Healer Weasley?”_

_Hugo clenched his jaw and then gave him a small nod, feeling all the colour vanish from his face. Anderson knew. Anderson knew, and he would sack Hugo, and everyone would know. He would be ruined. His career, his family…_

_Merlin, his family. Hugo groaned inwardly._

_“I received information from different sources, that you have been medicating yourself during your shifts. With hospital supplies.” Anderson said coolly. “The only bright side here is the fact that you haven’t accidentally killed anyone. Yet.”_

_Hugo’s eyes widened and he shook his head slightly. “I’m – I’ve been –”_

_“Completely in control?” Anderson cut him off, giving him a severe look. “The thing is, Hugo, that you have now lost my trust in you, so even if you think you have been completely in control, I do not share the assessment.”_

_Hugo felt nauseated, like something in his stomach was desperately trying to crawl its way up his throat._

_“What have you taken?” Anderson asked simply, watching Hugo with a piercing look._

_Hugo’s hands shook on his lap. He swallowed deeply and tried to clear away the tightness in his throat. “I’m – I’m –” he stammered, and looked away from Anderson’s hard gaze before he continued with a faint voice – “Wiggenweld Potion, Wideye Potion, Calming Draught and Draught of Peace…”_

_“How often? For how long?”_

_Hugo wanted to transfigure himself into nonexistence. The unbearable shame felt like poison eating him from inside out. “E-Every day,” He said quietly at the table, his voice sounding foreign to his ears. “Two months.”_

_“Why did you start?” Anderson asked mutedly._

_Hugo looked up to meet his eyes and frowned at the man. How was he to tell him that it was because he was working extremely long shifts without much of sleep between them, and had needed something to keep him awake? And because of that, he had also needed something to hold down the anxiety and the evident crash when the first potions wore off._

_Anderson let out a long, heavy sigh. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you talk to anyone?” He asked, and Hugo wondered if Anderson had guessed his thoughts._

_Hugo frowned at the table, not really knowing how to answer him. He had thought that complaining about his hours and demanding special treatment only some months after he had started his training could affect how others would see him – how he would be treated by his superiors, and eventually, by his fellow Healers._

_Anderson grunted thoughtfully. “Whatever the reason, I presume you understand that you will be suspended from the program.”_

_Hugo felt the room spin around him. Of course, he knew, he bloody well had known about the risks and the consequences when he had resorted into taking potions, but now, as Anderson had spoken the words in his cool voice, realisation hit Hugo full on the face._

_He was fucking ruined._

_“I’m suspending you for three months, until the end of March,” Anderson continued with a grim voice._

_Hugo’s eyes snapped back to meet his. “W-What?” He asked weakly._

_Hugo’s head spun. He wasn’t going to be dragged out by Aurors, after stealing hospital supplies and getting high on the job? He had to have broken some laws. And Anderson wasn’t even going to kick Hugo’s arse completely off the program?_

_Anderson gave him a long and scrutinising look. “If – and only if – you agree to start a psychotherapeutic treatment for dependency on psychoactive substances.” Anderson said and eyed Hugo with a calculating look before he continued, “and upon your return, you agree to be tested for substances during a four-month trial period.”_

_The rest of their meeting became a sickening blur in Hugo’s head, and when he finally was released from Anderson’s office, he wanted to run and hide somewhere, and never be found._

_When he came home, it was only a bit over noon. Hugo was glad his mother wasn’t home, because the first thing he did, was to go to her room and to her wardrobe._

_He stood there, staring at the bottles and vials for a long moment, his arm shaking as he held the wardrobe door open and in a tight grip between his fingers. He swore loudly, hurled the door closed and dropped to sit down on the soft carpet, breathing heavily while he gripped and pulled his hair, knowing, knowing he shouldn’t, that if he did, it wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t take away the fucking miserable anxiety that had started creeping into his every cell._

_“Fuck!” Hugo bellowed, and stood up quickly._

_He needed something – anything to make it go away. To make him forget. To make him calm and in control again._

_He opened the door once more, and peered inside._

_With a small vial of Dreamless Sleep potion, he marched back to his room, locked his door with a spell and crashed to bed after gulping down the foul-tasting potion…_

There was another sharp knock on his door. “Hugo!” His mother called from the landing, her voice mixed with worry and exasperation.

Hugo closed his eyes and pressed his head against the pillow, trying to vanish the memories from his mind, without success. His breathing became shallow, as if something heavy sat on top of his chest. At the same time, something dark and unpleasant coiled in the bottom of his stomach, burning its way up, and making the room swim before his eyes.

Nausea clawed at his throat, and Hugo tried to force down the bile, but he couldn’t. He lurched forward and leant over the edge of his bed, before vomiting violently on the floor.

“Hugo!” His mother shrieked from the other side of the door.

Hugo coughed and spluttered and kept heaving even though there was nothing left to go.

“Hugo, open the door, _now,_ or I’ll force the walls down!” His mother yelled angrily.

He suppressed a gag at the sight on his floor and turned his focus on the door. His throat was on fire and his head spun, but he managed to speak with an almost even voice. “…I’m fine, Mum.”

“Obviously you’re not!” His mother yelled, her voice shaking slightly. “Open the door, Hugo, please!”

Hugo took in a deep breath and grabbed his wand from the nightstand, vanishing the disgusting puddle on the floor with shaking hands.

“I’ll be downstairs in a bit, Mum. Just – let me be alone for a while,” he croaked, pulling himself up to sit on the bed.

“But – Hugo –”

“It’s all right, Mum, really!” Hugo grunted, feeling frustrated, since there was no way he could dodge his mother’s confrontation, even if he would be able to postpone it.

His mother let out a long sigh. “Are you – are you certain –”

– “yes, Mum.”

He waited silently as his mother hesitated on his door for a moment, before telling him that she would wait for him in the sitting room. When her footsteps echoed from the stairs, Hugo let out a shuddering breath.

He pulled his knees up and pressed his head against them, shutting himself away from the presence. He would have to talk to his mother. He would have to go to rehab – otherwise he would be kicked off from the program. Most importantly, he would have to stop.

And he didn’t know how, because it was unbearable to be without. His skin itched, his stomach twisted and coiled with nausea, and there was a beginning of a headache forming in his head. And it could get worse during the next few days, or so he reckoned, based on what he had read about muggle withdrawals. He wanted to throw things, to trash things. He wanted to be high, he wanted to take the edge off, he wanted to feel normal again.

Hugo sat there for a long while, before dragging himself up from the bed and walking out of his room, towards downstairs, his body trembling, his chest heavy with anxiety, as he tried to ready himself to face his mother.

However, it was both of his parents _and Bruce,_ who Hugo found from downstairs, standing in the middle of the room, talking – or arguing, more like – in sharp voices and snide remarks. Bruce was there, trying to be invisible, while Hugo’s parents were busy hissing at each other. None of them seemed to notice Hugo, who stood in the doorway.

“…I can’t believe you didn’t see this coming, Mione?” Hugo’s father huffed, his arms crossed over his chest.

Hugo’s mother gasped. “How I didn’t see this coming? _Me?_ ” She shrieked. “ _You_ probably see him more than _I_ do these days, and I _live_ with him!”

“Hermione…” Bruce muttered, looking very uncomfortable.

“ – Don’t interfere – Mr – well, whatever your name is.” Hugo’s father said to Bruce, his mouth pursing in dislike, “This is between Mione and me, and I don’t even know what are you still doing h–”

“How dare you, Ronald!” Hugo’s mother yelled over him, her face red as she gave a murderous glare at Hugo’s father. “This is _my_ home, and I asked you to come here, to discuss Hugo’s circumstances –”

“ – Exactly!” Hugo’s father spat, his fingers curled into tight fists. “This is about _our_ son, and between _us – “_

 _“ –_ and Bruce happened to be here, when Hugo woke up, and he suggested that I should ask you to come here, and try to form a plan _together –“_

 _“ –_ Oh, how gracious of him,” Hugo’s father said with a mild sneer.

“Perhaps I should go,” Bruce said with an uncomfortable voice.

“YES, I agree.”

“Shut up, Ron, you do not get a say in this,” Hugo’s mother said angrily at his father, before turning to look at Bruce with a strained expression. “I’m very sorry about this,” she said in a softer voice.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Bruce said reassuringly, and pulled her into a quick hug.

Hugo could see his father rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“I’ll call you later.” Bruce said quietly and squeezed her shoulder before taking a step towards the door. He gave Hugo’s father – who had a rather handsome scowl on his face – a miniscule nod while passing him, and moved his gaze to the doorway. To Hugo.

“Hugo.” Hugo’s mother said a second later, her voice filled by surprise. “Um. We didn’t hear you.”

Hugo saw his father's ears tinge with red, while his mother grimaced. They were both evidently embarrassed about the fact that they had been talking about Hugo and he had heard them.

Bruce stopped next to Hugo and gave him an encouraging smile. “Go on. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Hugo nodded jerkily. “Yeah. See you.”

They all stood still in place as Bruce left, and only when the front door closed behind Bruce, Hugo’s father cleared his throat and nodded at Hugo.

“Sit down. We need to talk,” Hugo’s father said mutedly, his eyes moving over Hugo’s features.

Silently, Hugo stepped inside the room and sat on the sofa, before fixing his gaze on the floor. His mother sat next to him on the sofa, while his father took the armchair on his other side.

“I'm sorry you had to see that... But Hugo? We’re worried about you,” his mother said quietly. “It seems that you’re going through something – something you ought not to face alone…”

Hugo blinked, not really knowing how to respond to his mother.

“Hugo?” His father asked with a tentative voice. “We’re here to help you. To help you make a plan so that you can get through this.”

Hugo gritted his teeth. What did they think he was going through? He lifted his gaze to meet his father’s. “What are you talking about?” He asked with an expressionless voice.

Surely, they didn’t know about his apprenticeship. No. They also didn’t know about him stealing and using potions. _Well_ – Hugo thought sullenly after seeing his father share a grim look with his mother – _his mother had probably noticed the missing vials in their potion’s cabinet._ Which Hugo had had the intention of replacing.

His mother sighed wearily. “We’re talking about you spending eighty hours a week in the hospital, while your apprenticeship is only half of it. We’re talking about the missing potions from my wardrobe, your jumpiness and nervousness, your tiredness and your sudden mood changes,” she said calmly, watching Hugo with a scrutinising look.

Hugo swallowed hard, clasping his hands together and trying to not let his parents see how much they were shaking.

“Do you have an addiction?” She asked after a short silence.

Hugo’s father made a sudden movement, but Hugo didn’t look away from his mother. There were tears in her eyes. And he hated it, disappointing her. He wanted to lie to her, to make her stop worrying for him, but he couldn’t. It would come out, sooner or later.

“I’ll fix it,” he said, forcing himself to stay unmoving, even though it felt like insects were creeping their way under his skin. He turned his focus on the table, unable to face his parents’ worried gazes when he continued, “I’ll go talk to someone – someone who’ll help me.”

“…What does that mean?” Hugo’s father asked, bewildered.

“Hugo – what about your working hours? Have you considered –”

Hugo quickly shook his head and stood up from the sofa, unable to sit still. He started to pace in front of them, and kept his eyes ahead as he spoke. “There’s nothing to consider. Not now, at least. I was suspended yesterday.”

His mother let out a shocked gasp, while his father yelled, “Bloody hell!”

“Why?” Hugo’s mother asked hastily, a sharp edge in her voice.

Hugo stilled and glanced at her. There was suspicion in her eyes, and Hugo wanted nothing more than to throw something at her for giving him such a distrusting look. But at the same time, he knew that he deserved it. He deserved all of it.

“I stole potions and got high on the job.”

There was a shocked silence.

“What the _hell,_ Hugo?!” His father shouted and jumped up from his seat, surprise and anger mixing in his expression.

Hugo’s mother looked appalled. “W-Why? Why would you do such a thing? W-Why didn’t you – “

“Because I don’t know Mum!” Hugo yelled, trailing a hand through his hair. He felt frustrated. If he had known he’d be in this bloody mess, he would’ve done differently! He would’ve sought something or someone to help him! “Because – because I’m an _addict!”_ He said nastily, narrowing his eyes at his mother. _Wasn't that what she wanted to hear?_ Hugo thought bitterly.

“Do not speak to your mother like that!” Hugo’s father said sharply.

Hugo whirled towards him, “What then?! How should I speak to her? To you?” Hugo yelled incredulously. “I told you I’ll _fix it._ Can’t you just – fucking – let me be?!” He gritted through his teeth.

“What happened to you?” His father asked, looking shaken. “You’re not acting like the Hugo I know.”

Hugo swore loudly, while his mother cried a shocked, “Ron!”

“This is me, Dad!” Hugo screamed, glaring at his father, feeling hurt, feeling angered, feeling shocked by his words. “This is who I am, and I’m sorry you fucking missed it!”

Hugo’s mother let out a choked sob. “Hugo, please…calm down.”

He looked between his parents. His father’s eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked like there was something unpleasant slithering up in his throat. Hugo’s mother looked terrified.

Hugo took in a shaky breath. He needed to get out of there. He needed to be somewhere else. He fucking needed a Calming Draught or two, but that wasn’t an option anymore. But there was no way he was able to look at his parents a minute longer, and see the pain and sorrow he had caused.

“I’m – I’m leaving.” Hugo croaked, heading towards the door. “I can’t stay here.”

“Wait!” His mother called with a wavering voice. “You shouldn’t – you don’t have to. Hugo please, do not go!”

Hugo stilled in the doorway, but didn’t look back. “I’ll be at Rose’s.” He said, praying that his sister would be home, and would take him in.

Just for the night. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t feel like blowing up the house if he didn’t get a Calming Draught. Tomorrow, he probably would be able to look at his mother in the eye again.

At least, he really fucking hoped so.

Twenty minutes later, Hugo was standing outside of Rose’s building, trying to sort out his thoughts, trying to think what to say to his sister. He took in one last calming breath before opening the door and walking to the third floor.

He knocked on the door, and waited.

A moment later, it was opened, by Scarlett.

“Hugo!” Scarlett said, giving him a surprised once over, which made Hugo very much aware of his evidently dishevelled appearance. “Is… Is everything all right?” Scarlett asked hesitantly.

Hugo nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Um. Is Rose home?” He asked quietly, not really wanting to explain anything to Scarlett.

Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh! Of course – yeah – she’s home! I’ll –” She said and glanced behind her – “I’ll get her. Come on in.”

Hugo stepped inside and closed the door behind him, as Scarlett walked briskly away from the hallway.

Moments later, Rose appeared from the same direction Scarlett had gone, dressed in a sleek outfit, her hair and make-up done. Hugo groaned inwardly. She was probably with Nick – or about to meet him. After all, it _was_ Friday evening.

“Hugo?” Rose asked tentatively, her eyes moving over his frame. “What’s going on?”

Hugo frowned at her. “You’re probably busy, right?”

“No. Of course not.” Rose said firmly and walked closer to take his hand. “Now – what’s wrong?” She asked softly, and then scrunched up her eyes a bit “…Besides the fact that you smell like vomit and look like shit?” She added cautiously.

Hugo wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. He clenched his jaw and looked at her in the eye, feeling defeated.

“I’m in trouble.”


	19. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long and early chapter just because!

**Chapter 19: Rose**

**Wednesday, 24 December 2025**

Rose woke up to Scarlett’s laughter and sounds that were coming from the kitchen. It was already late in the morning, and even though it was her day off and she was free to wake up without an alarm, Rose was tired. She hadn’t got enough sleep after listening Hugo pace in the sitting room at night, whispering out occasional curses and breathing unsteadily until the early morning hours. She turned to look at her bedroom door that was cracked slightly open, and wondered when was the last time both she and her brother had slept well.

It was the fifth night in a row with Hugo staying at her place and having trouble sleeping, and every day she was more worried about him. She was aware about what he was going through, as Hugo had given her a brief explanation the previous Friday when he had come knocking on her door and quite successfully managing to scare the crap out of her, but he hadn’t spoken a word about it since – and in general, he had remained more quiet than she had ever witnessed him be.

He was also quite undoubtedly having withdrawals, now that Rose knew what to look for, when she studied him more carefully. He bit his fingernails, the insides of his cheeks, scratched his head constantly, shivered, and generally looked tired. He also seemed like he was in a verge of either lashing out in irritation or passing out by dizziness. And at nights, when he was alone in the sitting room, Rose could hear him breathe heavily, gasp for air, pace in the room and retch in the bathroom.

It was definitely worse at nights, than during the days – although Rose reckoned Hugo was simply trying to suppress most of the symptoms whenever she or Scarlett were around, and possibly experiencing the full force of them when they were working and he was alone in their flat.

Rose had gone to him, during the first night – asking if she could help him in any way. Hugo had crisply told her to either piss off or bring him something that would knock him out. Rose had gone to her room that night and had kept her door ajar since then.

Hugo hadn’t said a word about any potions to Scarlett, but Rose’s friend had been quick to understand what was going on, after Hugo had given her a vague outline of things the previous Saturday, mentioning that he was put on a three-month suspension from the program and then having a row with his parents about it. Scarlett had remained polite and understanding and hadn’t questioned Hugo further, and instead had simply informed him that on her behalf, he was welcome to stay at their place for as long as he needed to.

Rose had naturally agreed, and when Hugo had gone to shower that night, Scarlett had marched to Rose’s room and asked her how long had her brother been without any substances, and then asked Rose to help her toss out all the potions and booze they had lying around in their cabinets before Hugo was ready with his evening routine.

On Sunday morning, Rose had briefly seen Nick at Diagon Alley, after she had cancelled their date on Friday. They had strolled along the wizarding district and simply chatted, but when Nick had asked if she wanted to sit down somewhere for coffee or an early lunch, Rose had refused and told him that she was due to meet her mother soon. She hadn’t actually seen her mother until a couple of hours later, as she had wanted to spend some time with Hugo before that and not be away from home for too long. The brief disappointment on Nick’s expression hadn’t been unnoticed by Rose. She had felt a bit bad about lying to him, but at the same time, she had known that there was no way she could – or even wanted to – explain Hugo’s situation to Nick. To add insult to injury, Rose and Nick wouldn’t be seeing each other until the beginning of next year, as Nick was going to travel to the States with his family the next day, to spend the holidays with their relatives.

Rose had met her parents the previous Sunday – like she usually did on Sundays – but had told them in advance, that her visits would be shorter this time, and that she would be coming alone. Rose’s and Hugo’s mother and father had both contacted Rose several times after she had found Hugo from her hallway, looking worse for wear.

During her short visits first at her mother’s place and then at her father’s, her parents had both been worried and anxious, shooting questions about Hugo, asking how he was doing, if he was better, if he had been staying ‘sober’ – which to Rose had sounded as if Hugo was actively turning Rose’s flat upside down in his search for potions – and if they ought to come see him and discuss the circumstances. She had told her parents what Hugo had told her – that he didn’t want to see them, and that he needed a break. He had, however, told Rose to tell their parents that he would come to the Burrow for Christmas Eve, but had expressed a wish that his situation would not be discussed during the Weasley family dinner.

There was another bright burst of laughter coming from the kitchen – a laugh that Rose knew didn’t belong to Scarlett. She threw away her blanket and rushed out from her room.

“Lily!” Rose exclaimed as soon as she saw her cousin’s flaming red hair in the kitchen, where she was leaning against the counter, talking with Scarlett.

Rose was surprised, thinking that she would see her cousin – who was also one of her best friends – at the Burrow later that day, where the whole Weasley clan would gather like it did every year for Christmas Eve. Rose and Lily had of course texted each other during the weekend, after Lily had come back from Hogwarts, but Rose had told Lily that she was unfortunately quite busy and unable to see her before Christmas Eve, as something rather serious had come up. Lily had been okay with it, and Rose had promised to explain everything later.

“Rose!” Lily squeaked and walked towards Rose to meet her halfway, before throwing her arms over Rose and pulling her into a tight embrace. “Godric, I missed you!”

Lily pulled back and pushed her glasses slightly upwards on her nose. She was a strikingly good-looking witch: Lily had a long, straight red hair, and beautiful almond shaped green eyes behind stylish, large glasses. Her brows were perfectly arched, she had full lips, and her figure was short, but elegant and slim. She was very popular among boys and attracted pursuers, much to James’s and Albus’s displeasure – although, she had been dating one boy from Ravenclaw for some time now, and it seemed serious.

“And I missed you!” Rose said, smiling widely at Lily. “What are you doing in here? I thought we were going to see each other in –” Rose glanced at the timepiece on the wall – “In three hours?”

Lily rolled her eyes and walked back to the kitchen. “Mum,” she grunted and took her cup from the counter, before giving Rose a grimace. “She’s driving me nuts.” Lily said and glanced at Scarlett, who was sipping coffee and leaning against the counter, watching them with a small smile on her face. The two of them had instantly got along when Rose had introduced Scarlett to Lily during the previous summer.

“Anyway, heard your place is where all the sad sods are gathering, so,” Lily shrugged, spreading an arm out, “Here I am.”

Rose huffed in amusement just when the door to the bathroom opened and Hugo strolled to the kitchen, looking a lot healthier than he had looked during the past five days. He was dressed in smart clothes, and his hair was still damp.

“Not sad,” Hugo quipped as he reached the kitchen. “Just desperate. Cousin.” He said and plopped a brotherly kiss on Lily’s head as he moved past her, towards the cupboards.

Lily smiled at Hugo. “You look good,” she said lightly, when Hugo poured coffee into his cup. “I heard you had a row with your mum and dad? Nervous to see them? Or – you know – Gran?” She asked with a grimace.

They all knew their grandmother exhibited very serious meddling tendencies when it came to her children and grandchildren.

Hugo sniffed and didn’t look up. “Why would I be?” He asked, glancing at her. “It’s not like I’m about to walk into a nest of vultures who will try to tear me apart with their questions. Am I?” He said wryly.

Lily snorted and patted his arm. “It’s gonna be all right. I mean, there’s still other exciting gossip to chew over. Like Rose’s budding relationship with Nick,” she said and smirked at Rose, who rolled her eyes at Lily.

“…Then there’s James’s poor playing – his manager threatened to bench him, in case you didn’t know –” she said, ignoring Rose’s and Scarlett’s gasps of shock and Hugo’s stunned expression – “ _And_ there’s Al’s lesbian girlfriend’s father, who has started to bother _my_ father, to urge Al to marry his daughter,” Lily explained, evidently enjoying the gobsmacked reactions she received – “And finally, there’s me. I’m single again,” she said with an indifferent shrug. “Asher and I broke up two days before the holidays.”

Rose gaped at her. “You – and James – and –” she stammered, trying to form a coherent sentence.

Hugo shook his head slightly, being the first to recover from Lily’s outburst. “I’m sorry,” he said and frowned at Lily. “About you and Asher.”

“Oh, Lily, why didn’t you say anything when we texted?” Rose said thickly, feeling ashamed. She had gone and told her friend that she had a lot going on, and hadn’t even realised to ask if everything was all right with Lily.

Lily gave them a strained smile. “It’s all right. We decided it’s better to be friends than a couple,” she said, evidently bothered by it, but forcing a smile on her face nonetheless.

Rose walked closer to hug her friend again.

There was a short silence, and then Scarlett spoke with an intrigued voice. “So… Al’s gonna marry a lesbian, huh?”

* * *

After breakfast, Hugo went outside for a walk, Scarlett went to pack her things as she was going to leave to her parents’ place for Christmas, and Rose and Lily started to get ready for Christmas Eve at the Burrow.

“…It’s so obvious, Rose, I dunno why you can’t see it…” Lily muttered while twirling her wand to charm her hair into soft ringlets.

Rose had told Lily that Scorpius had come to the coffee shop to chat with her – two times, really, as the blonde Slytherin had popped by again the day before – and she was already regretting saying anything to her speculative cousin.

“There’s nothing obvious there, Lily,” Rose said with small huff, as she smoothed the fabric of her favourite knitted dress with a charm. “He came to talk, and we did talk for a while, before I went back to work.”

Lily gave her a knowing look, and then glanced at the door as Scarlett walked in. “Is Scorpius still hung up on Rose?” Lily asked sweetly from Scarlett.

Scarlett gave Lily an evil grin – at least it looked like that to Rose. “Oh, I don’t know – perhaps he just wants to be her friend, after worshipping her for the past ten years,” Scarlett said airily.

Rose glared at Lily and Scarlett, as both girls sniggered. “I hate you both. And do you know how unfair that is? Even if he would be hung up on me?” Rose asked, remembering the hurt and misery she had felt after they had broken up – it hadn’t really gone anywhere, as it was still in the back of her brain. “And I’m perfectly content being with Nick.”

Scarlett gave her an apologising look, while Lily’s lips turned down.

Lily sighed. “We know, Rose. And we didn’t really think. So… Sorry.” She said earnestly, while Scarlett nodded in agreement.

Rose shook her head. “It’s fine. I don’t think he wants me back, and even if he did and I wasn’t seeing Nick, I don’t know if I could be with him again…” She said with a tight voice, before turning her focus back to her dress.

“Besides,” Rose said after finishing the spell, eyeing her wand work from the mirror, as the dress slid over her figure without any wrinkle, “I have more important things to worry about now. Like – my brother.” She said pointedly, watching Lily and Scarlett through the mirror.

Lily gave her a curious look. “What exactly is going on with him? I know he’s staying here because he had a falling out with your mum, and that’s all my mum and you have said – but I mean, _why_ did he have a row with her and your dad? It’s not really like him, is it?”

Rose sighed. “It’s probably not. He’s just…” Rose said and glanced at Scarlett who looked away and moved towards Rose’s desk, opting to not take part in their conversation. “He’s just having some hardships in life, which I hope he’ll tell you about later,” Rose said gently, knowing that Hugo and Lily were close enough to share their personal issues to the other.

Lily let out an agreeing hum and sat on Rose’s bed, muttering, “Don’t we all,” with a weary voice, while Scarlett was busy inspecting the items on Rose’s writing desk.

“I told him – well, we did,” Rose said and nodded at Scarlett, “that he can stay here for as long as he wants to. I know he’ll go back home eventually, after the dust has settled,” Rose finished. For her mother’s sake she hoped it would happen soon.

“I agree,” Scarlett said absently, picking up one of the instant make-up-masks Rose had got from her father. “I kinda want to keep him, though,” she said and pressed the make-up-mask on her face.

Rose rolled her eyes at Scarlett’s choice of mask. “Why?” She asked wryly.

Scarlett turned around with full clown make-up, causing Lily to scream in terror and fall off from Rose’s bed.

“BLOODY HELL, SCARLETT!” Lily croaked, looking horrified as she stood up and shakily took a seat on the bed again.

Scarlett smirked. “I rather like it,” She said thoughtfully and looked at the mirror to examine her makeup.

“Scar…?” Rose pressed pointedly.

Scarlett’s eyes met Rose’s questioning gaze through the mirror. She shrugged. “He cleans and makes dinner. It’s a bargain.”

Lily snorted while Rose pursed her lips together in mild disapproval, but couldn’t say she hadn’t enjoyed their now spotless home and one warm meal every day, all done by her brother. However, when she had told him to stay at her place and have a ‘break’, she hadn’t meant that she was expecting something in return.

Scarlett sighed. “You’re right,” She said with a defeated look, seeing Rose’s expression through the mirror. “I know he needs to go eventually. And, you know, I do admit it has been a bit unsettling to have your little brother repeatedly surprise me starkers in the bathroom.”

Rose whirled around. “WHAT?!” She bellowed in shock, while Lily burst in laughter.

Scarlett shrugged. “It’s fine, he’s always been gracious enough to look away and close the door behind him.”

Rose stammered quite a bit, before she managed to speak. “Lock. The bloody door, Scar!” Rose growled.

Lily still laughed, wiping the corners of her eyes. “I can’t – you’re both so – this is _so hilarious!”_ She wheezed through laughter.

“I don’t quite agree, Lily,” Rose hissed through her teeth, before she turned to Scarlett, feeling pretty narked with her friend. “Didn’t you have – you know – _packing_ , or something else to be done?”

Scarlett arched a brow at Rose. “I’m a witch. How long do you think it takes me to flick my wand?”

Rose narrowed her eyes at Scarlett. “I’m cancelling the New Year’s party.”

Scarlett huffed in shock. “You wouldn’t.” She whispered.

Lily looked between them. “What?” She asked, frowning at them. “What have I missed?”

Rose pursed her lips and turned to Lily. “We _were_ gonna throw a party on New Year’s Eve. And I’m now seriously thinking of cancelling it, seeing as Scarlett is acting like a tart,” Rose said primly and gave Scarlett a knowing look. “Scar thinks she’ll have another go with James at the party.”

Lily gasped in surprise, her hand flying against her mouth, while Scarlett scoffed loudly.

“I do not!” Scarlett exclaimed with an outraged look. She lifted her chin a bit. “However, I wouldn’t say no to one of his teammates,” she said airily.

“Oh, Merlin…” Rose groaned.

* * *

Some time later, Rose, Lily and Hugo apparated in the back garden of the Burrow. Scarlett had left to spend the Christmas with her family, after telling Hugo to send her a text if he wanted to chat at any point.

They walked across the snow-covered garden, towards the back door that led to the kitchen. It was still light, as the sun would set in a couple of hours. They could hear commotion inside, and even though it was rather tiresome to be in the midst of most of her relatives, as it always included occasional yelling and arguments, Rose felt excited to see them all, and was eager to spend the day with them.

“A perfect weather for a friendly snowball fight, don’t you think?” Lily said cheerfully, as they reached the terrace.

Hugo gave her a disdainful look, but Lily ignored him and pushed the door open.

“Rose! Hugo! Lily!” Their grandmother exclaimed as soon as they stepped inside.

It seemed that most of Rose’s aunts and uncles were sitting in the kitchen in mid-discussion with Rose’s mother, grandmother and grandfather, and they all turned to look at the incomers.

Rose’s Uncle George and Aunt Angelina sat on the far end of the table with Rose’s grandfather. Next to them were Uncle Charlie, Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey. Closer to the door sat Rose’s mother, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, accompanied by Rose’s grandmother.

Rose, Hugo and Lily were all hugged tightly by their grandmother, before they were able to greet the rest of their family in the kitchen. Rose gave an extra-long hug to Harry, and told him it was good to see him again, remembering what Hugo had said to him at one of James’s games. Harry clumsily patted her back, a strained smile on his face when he pulled away. It was evident that he didn’t feel comfortable being there, but Rose thought it couldn’t be completely bad for him, as he had made an appearance. She made a mental note to talk to Lily and ask about her father later.

What was also evident, was the stiff greeting between Hugo and his and Rose’s mother. Hugo merely nodded at her, while hugging tightly both of his grandparents. After that, he quickly made his excuses and continued to the sitting room, where Rose assumed her cousins were situated. She wondered briefly if their father was there as well, and if he would be as cool as their mother had been by Hugo’s cold shoulder.

“Rose…?” Rose’s mother asked quietly, when Lily moved to chat with Percy, Charlie and their grandfather. “How is he?” She asked, worrying her lip.

Rose glanced at Harry and her grandmother who were both watching her intently. “He’s fine, Mum.” Rose said quietly. “Um. Is everyone in the sitting room?”

“Yes, dear, the kids are there – except for Jasmine,” Rose’s grandmother said warmly. “Ronald and Lavender will arrive a bit late as they are meeting Lavender’s parents first. Are you hungry? I could whip something up. It’ll be several hours before dinner.”

Rose grinned at her grandmother, briefly wondering if she would always think of them as ‘kids’, and if there was ever a person who had left the Burrow, feeling hungry. “I’m all right, thanks, Gran,” Rose said and waved at everyone before slipping into the sitting room.

“Brilliant! Rosie’s here. I’ll take her. Seeing as Lucy can’t throw a ball even if it danced naked in front of her,” Albus stated.

“ _Hey_!”

Rose blinked and glanced over the room. James, Fred and Hugo were sitting on one of the two sofas, while Roxanne, Albus and Scorpius were sitting on the other. Lucy was curled in an armchair between the sofas, glaring at Albus while most of the others sniggered lightly.

Rose nodded at everyone, her eyes lingering a bit at Scorpius’s, who was watching her with an expressionless look. It wasn’t unusual for him to be there, since Rose’s grandmother had made a point of inviting Scorpius there for some years now, after finding out about his mother passing away during the holidays and about his father’s unwillingness to celebrate Christmas because of it.

Rose turned to frown at Albus. “…What now?” Rose asked suspiciously.

“Snowball fight!” Lily said cheerfully behind Rose. She walked past Rose to hug Roxanne, Fred and Lucy. “Looks like we’re all here, so come on, before it’ll be dark!”

Technically, Jasmine hadn’t still arrived, but she was three, and not really counted as a part of their ‘gang’, even if she was Rose’s and Hugo’s half-sibling and a cousin to the rest of them – excluding Scorpius. They all adored Jasmine, but it wasn’t the same as growing up with someone.

Molly, John and baby Jackson were spending the Christmas Eve with John’s parents, and were going to Audrey’s parents for Christmas Day. They would come to the Burrow on Boxing Day. Victoire and Teddy were spending the Christmas in France, splitting it between Andromeda’s house and Victoire’s grandparents’ house in south France, where Rose’s Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, and Dominique and Louis were as well. Victoire was still heavily pregnant, and was due to have her baby in a month or so.

Without further ado, the group went outside, where they were divided into two teams. On one team, there were James, Fred, Roxanne and Lily, and on the other, Albus, Scorpius, Rose, Hugo and Lucy.

* * *

“…Come _on_ , Rose, you throw like a girl!” Fred yelled an hour later from the other side of the garden, as Rose’s carefully aimed hit missed him by inches.

Rose laughed. “I _am_ a girl, did you forget?” She yelled back and threw another ball, that hit him straight on his crotch.

“OUCH, FUCK!” Fred bellowed, leaning forwards, his hands on his knees.

“Fred’s out!” Albus yelled triumphantly from somewhere on Rose’s right, sniggering, “serves you right, wanker!”

Snowballs were zooming everywhere, and the ones who were still left standing – everyone but Lucy, Fred and Scorpius – were running wildly over the garden, swerving the flying balls of snow and dodging the attacks of the other team.

“HA! A hundred points for the face!” Lily yelled proudly, when she managed to surprise Hugo and land a ball of snow on his forehead.

Hugo groaned and brushed away the snow from his face. “Thanks for that!” He yelled, “I’ll be inside, enjoying my warm butterbeer!” He quipped with a smirk, joining the rest of their group who were in the kitchen, warming up their freezing fingers after their activities.

It was Rose and Albus against James, Roxanne and Lily, and Rose had to hand it to Albus – he was quite fast. But not fast enough. Twenty minutes later, both Lily and Roxanne attacked him, managing to trip him over and give him the most uncomfortable looking whitewashing there was, while Albus screamed with a high-pitched voice.

“Assault!” Albus spluttered, spitting out snow while both Lily and Roxanne shrieked in laughter. “A foul!”

Rose managed to hit both of her cousins while the girls were busy covering Albus’s neck and face with snow.

“Hey, Rosie,” James said quietly behind her, and before Rose could turn, or even curse under her breath, her face was covered in snow, as James rubbed a handful of the white cold powder on her skin.

“James!” she seethed, coughing, and as James was busy sniggering and rejoicing about his victory, Rose swirled around and paid back in kind, throwing her arm over James’s shoulder and managing to reach his neck with the snowball in her hand.

James screamed when Rose pressed the snow into his skin and inside his coat, keeping a tight grip on the cuff of his coat with her other hand.

“S-Stop it, Rosie!” James screeched, twitching frantically and trying to throw Rose off, which he managed to do in the end.

James pushed Rose on the ground and took a shaky step back, grimacing as the melting snow inevitably trickled down his back. Both Lily and Roxanne were howling in laughter, and Rose too joined them when Albus spoke.

“I haven’t really paid attention to it before, but I have to say, brother, you _do_ have a very delicate screaming voice,” Albus commented from the ground, where he was lying on his back, and panting slightly.

“Fuck off, Al. I won,” James said smugly, if not a bit out of breath.

Lily and Roxanne both watched him dangerously. James had the sense of taking a couple of retreating steps away from them. “Now… girls. Let’s all calm down. Shall we?” James asked hesitantly.

Lily and Roxanne shared a look with Rose, while Albus laughed on the ground. “I think that means you ought to run, James,” Albus said with amusement, and in vain, as at that moment Rose, Roxanne and Lily all charged at James, who was naturally faster than them, and with his long legs managed to get a good head start across the snowy yard.

It was already dark when they emerged inside, laughing, panting, all of them red-faced and either covered in snow or wearing damp coats as the snow had melted into the fabric of their clothes. Their parents and grandparents had left the kitchen and had taken over the sitting room.

“Took you long enough,” Fred said from the table, where he was sipping butterbeer with Scorpius, both looking fresh and cleaned up.

Fred gave his sister an approving nod. “Always knew I could count on you, sis,” he said cheerfully, evidently having seen the rest of the fight.

Roxanne bowed and then made her excuses and left the room in order to clean herself up.

Fred snorted when he saw James, who was positively drenched in water and snow, after Lily had finally caught him by sending a tripping jinx at him.

James huffed at Fred. “I swear my sister’s a Slytherin,” he grunted and after sending one last scowl at Lily, he marched towards upstairs.

They all laughed, but Rose’s grin faded quickly when she noticed that Scorpius was staring at her.

Albus shrugged. “Don’t see what’s wrong with that,” he said lightly, bumping his elbow against Lily’s side, before following his brother upstairs.

Lily sighed. “What does James even think? That I’d be any match to him with half of the length of his legs?” She asked incredulously from Rose.

“… _You coming, Scor_?” Albus yelled from the stairs, which finally caused Scorpius to blink at Rose and then at the table, apparently not even noticing that his best friend had left the room.

“Yeah.” Scorpius yelled back, and stood quickly up, leaving the room with haste.

Fred and Lily both watched Rose with a mix of exasperation and smugness in their expressions, as if pointing out something quite obvious.

Rose lifted her brows in concern. “Everything all right?” She asked innocently, knowing very well what both of them were implying with their looks, but not really being in the mood to take their teasing.

Lily sighed wearily. “Come on, Rose,” she muttered and dragged Rose upstairs.

* * *

It was over five in the afternoon, when the girls finally emerged from upstairs. Their grandmother was busy ordering those unfortunate ones in the kitchen who had either made the mistake of asking if they could help her – Scorpius and Rose’s mother – or those who were commanded there by her – George and Ginny.

George and Ginny were busy transfiguring the table and chairs in order to fit the whole clan into the expanded kitchen, while Rose’s mother and grandmother were near the stove, working over several pots and pans. Scorpius was stacking goblets, cutlery, plates and napkins on the side table, not looking at all bothered by the chore.

“I think we’ll be all right. Thank you, Scorpius,” Ginny said kindly to him. “Do tell Albus and James to order Grandad to steer clear from eggnog before dinner, will you? We don’t want a rerun from last year,” she finished pointedly.

Rose and Lily both snorted, remembering vividly how drunk their grandfather had been during the dinner last year, while Scorpius suppressed a smile and nodded at Ginny. “I will, Mrs – um,” he cleared his throat after seeing the sudden narrow-eyed look Ginny was giving him, – “ _Ginny_.”

Lily rolled her eyes next to Rose, and both of them were about to slip into the sitting room after Scorpius, when they were stopped by a force that hit their legs.

“Jasmine!” Rose said and smiled at the small girl, who had run from the sitting room and collided with them in her eagerness.

She lifted her half-sister up and gave her a warm hug.

“Miss you, Rosie,” Jasmine said quietly against her.

Rose pulled back slightly and gave her a kind smile. “And I missed you. How have you been? Have you been good?”

Jasmine looked like she was thinking hard about it. “I have,” she finally said, earnestly.

Lily grinned next to Rose. “You sure? I heard some rumours from the elves that you got into mischief the other day?” She asked with an arched brow.

Jasmine had broken Rose’s father’s broom, by plucking the twigs out of it for one of her plays. Needless to say, their father had been somewhat upset by it, seeing as it had been a brand-new broom, given to him by Harry on his previous birthday, and couldn’t be fixed by magic.

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “It was an accident!” She said and looked frightened. “Do elves know it was an accident?”

Both Ginny and George sniggered quietly behind them, while Lily gave Jasmine a sombre look. “I’m sure they’ll know if you’ll be good from now on, right?”

Jasmine nodded eagerly. “I will. I promise!”

“ _…Jasmine?”_ Rose’s father’s voice carried from the sitting room. “ _What are you doing?_ ”

Ginny cleared her throat behind them. “Perhaps you girls could join the others in the sitting room?” She said and glanced at Rose’s mother, who stood stiff next to the stove, her back against them. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

As Rose, Lily and Jasmine left the kitchen to join everyone else in the sitting room, Rose wondered if her mother had simply offered help in the kitchen so that she was able to excuse herself from Rose’s father’s company. It wouldn’t have been surprising if she had – seeing as Rose’s mother rarely talked with Rose’s father or Lavender whenever they were in the same space.

* * *

After a long wait, it was finally time for dinner, and the twenty-two of them managed to cram around the long table, their elbows brushing others. The expanded table was creaking with the weight of several serving plates, pots and bowls. The delicious whiffs of different courses caused Rose’s stomach to rumble in hunger. There was oven-roasted turkey and beef, sage and onion stuffing, gravy, pigs in blankets, cranberry sauce and redcurrant jelly, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, and roasted brussels sprouts and parsnips. There was easily enough food for an entire army.

Rose sat between her mother and Jasmine, close to their grandfather’s end of the table. The three-year-old had wanted to sit between Rose and Hugo, while her mother and father were sitting on the other end of the table.

Rose glanced opposite to her, where Albus and Scorpius sat, and groaned inwardly, when her cousin gave her an exaggerated wink.

Albus turned to look at their grandfather, who sat at the end of the table, next to James and Lucy. “Okay, Grandad. I have one for you,” Albus said smugly.

It was a tradition of sorts – Albus and their grandfather challenging each other with dim jokes, which usually were told over the dinner.

Their grandfather smirked at Albus and nodded at him, “All right then, have at it.”

Albus cleared his throat. “How many Gryffindors does it take to stir a cauldron?”

Several around them either groaned or rolled their eyes. Their grandfather chuckled. “I think I might know the answer, however, if I recall correctly, the version I have heard was not about _Gryffindors._ ” He said with amusement. “Go on. How many?”

Albus grinned. “Just one. He puts his wand in the cauldron and the world revolves around him.”

Scorpius shook his head in amusement, while James huffed. “That’s nearly as bad as Grandad’s dragon joke.”

“Or Al’s Quidditch joke!” Lucy said and gave Albus a sweet smile when he narrowed his eyes at her.

Their grandfather cleared his throat. “It was all right, and the rest of you simply cannot understand a good joke,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Shall we eat?” He asked with a slightly louder voice so that everyone on the other end of the table could hear him as well.

There was a short pause to the several discussions along the table, as everyone started to fill their plates. For a moment, everyone focused on their meals and only the clinks of goblets and cutlery against plates echoed in the room. Slowly, chatter filled the kitchen again.

“…So, Lily, how is school?” Their grandfather questioned, watching Lily with a fond smile.

Lily grinned at him. “Well, the NEWTs are definitely starting to press upon us, but otherwise it’s all right. We won against the Slytherin team with high points in October, and hopefully will be bringing the Quidditch cup to our house this year,” She said and aimed a triumphant look at Albus and Scorpius, who had been in the winning team last year.

Albus lifted his brows at his sister. “So… now that the better players are out of the way, you finally have a chance at winning?” He asked with a wry smile.

Scorpius suppressed a grin next to him.

Lily scoffed. “How’s Emma, Al?” She asked sweetly. “You thinking on popping the question soon?”

When Albus merely shot daggers at her, their grandfather frowned at Albus. “What does Lily mean?” He asked with a baffled voice. “Isn’t Emma…”

“She is,” Albus said firmly, and glared at James, who was chuckling next to their grandfather. “I’d rather discuss James and Quidditch – I’m sure there’s a lot more to chat about than with _my friend_ and me.”

“Oh?” Their grandfather asked and looked at James with a curious expression.

James sent a scowl at his brother before turning back to their grandfather. “ _Not_ talking about Quidditch.”

Their grandfather blinked and then nodded. “All right. How are you doing, James?” He asked kindly.

“I’m fine,” James grunted and shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.

Rose rolled her eyes at her cousins, who seemed to act like they were still children.

Their grandfather sighed. “Anyone have anything they _want_ to discuss?” He asked good-naturedly. “Jasmine?”

Jasmine beamed at their grandfather. “I broke dad’s broom! He nearly burst a vein!”

Several people laughed around the table. Rose could also hear her mother let out a very quiet snort next to her.

They continued chatting about Roxanne and her job at the Ministry, and Lucy, who was thinking of moving in with her boyfriend Scott. Hugo kept silent for most of the dinner, only talking with Jasmine, who rambled on about what Santa would bring her the next morning. It was obvious that their grandfather and Rose’s cousins knew about Hugo’s and his parents’ quarrel, and were discreet enough to not bring it up.

After dinner and dessert – Christmas pudding with brandy butter – they pulled apart a stack of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Old School Wizard Crackers, making exploding bangs and clouds of blue smoke fill the room. Their grandfather and Lucy received a pack of Exploding Snap cards and a pack of basic muggle cards. James and Fred both got Extendable Ears, while Lily and Roxanne received Trick Wands. Hugo and Jasmine got Canary Creams – which Rose quickly traded with the girl and gave her one of the travel-sized Wizard's Chess sets she and her mother had received, after seeing the alarmed look on Lavender’s face.

Albus and Scorpius got Headless Hats, Ginny and Harry received Smart-Answer Quills, and Angelina and Audrey both got Pygmy Puffs – which Lucy and Roxanne demanded to be given to them, while Ginny loudly reminisced her old Pygmy Puff Arnold. Lavender and Rose’s father received Patented Daydream Charms, while Charlie and Rose’s grandmother got Guaranteed Ten-Second Pimple Vanishers – a prize which Charlie snorted at and gave to his mother. Finally, George and Percy got both their own Basic Blaze Box of fireworks.

George and Rose’s father both grinned widely when everyone either laughed or admired their gifts, that were mostly older Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products, to celebrate their original collection.

* * *

Soon after dinner, Percy and Audrey thanked Rose’s grandparents and told them that they had to leave, as they were going to go to Audrey’s parents early in the morning, to help putting everything in place. They were soon followed by Lavender and Jasmine, the latter of whom spent at least ten minutes hugging Rose and Hugo tightly, telling them both that she missed them, and asking why they couldn’t be together the next day, when it was Christmas.

As Rose promised Jasmine that she would see her the next Sunday, and that Jasmine could then tell her all about the exciting presents she was sure Santa would bring her, she could practically hear her father gritting his teeth together, and unsurprisingly, when she lifted Jasmine and placed her in Lavender’s arms, she saw the scowl on her father’s face, that was aimed at Rose’s mother. He was evidently upset that Rose and Hugo wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them.

After Rose’s father had said his goodbyes to Lavender and Jasmine, opting to stay for a bit longer, it was Harry who announced that he was going to call it a night as well. He and Rose’s mother disappeared into the staircase for a long while to chat, before he actually left, and Rose didn’t miss the disappointment on both her mother’s and Ginny’s expressions.

The rest of the group retreated to the sitting room, conjuring and transfiguring armchairs and sofas to fit them all there comfortably. Rose sat with Lily, Roxanne, Lucy and Hugo on one of the extended sofas, while Albus, Scorpius, Charlie and George sat on the other. The rest sat either in armchairs or on straight-backed chairs, surrounding the sofas and the fireplace. They sipped Rose’s grandfather’s eggnog – which probably had more alcohol in it than anything else – and chatted in smaller groups, listening to Rose’s grandmother’s favourite Christmas songs from the wizarding wireless. Everything was all right, even though there had been tenseness between Harry and Ginny, and between Rose’s parents. Everything was all right, at least, until Rose’s father finally turned his gaze to Rose’s mother and demanded to know why Rose and Hugo couldn’t come to spend their Christmas Day with him, Lavender and Jasmine.

Rose’s mother’s brows lifted up and there was a deep silence in the room. “I recall not forbidding my children – who are off age, might I add – to spend their Christmas at your place, Ronald,” she said politely, even though there was a deep irritation in her eyes.

Rose’s grandfather cleared his throat, “Ron, I’m sure –”

“ – You must’ve said something to them,” Rose’s father continued insistently, cutting off his father. “If it doesn’t mean anything to you –“

“Of course it means something to me!” Rose’s mother said sharply, her voice rising slightly.

“A-ha!” Rose’s father said triumphantly. “So – what – you’re going to have a family Christmas with – with _Bruce_?”

Rose groaned inwardly and exchanged a grimace with Lily.

“Ronald!” Rose’s grandmother hissed, giving him a warning glare.

Rose’s mother seethed. “I would say it is none of your business, Ronald, who I will spend my Christmas with,” Rose’s mother said icily.

Rose’s father huffed, while George lifted his brows at Charlie and mouthed ‘Who’s Bruce?’.

“…As I was saying,” Rose’s grandmother continued her earlier discussion with Angelina and Rose’s mother with a slightly louder voice than before, “I’ve been writing with Andromeda, and –”

“Oh?” Rose’s father asked, his voice loud. “What else is not my business? Hugo’s situation? Or have you just been too engaged in your romance that you’ve failed to see something’s going on with him?”

Rose gasped, Rose’s mother, Ginny, and Rose’s grandmother all yelled at Rose’s father, while Hugo gritted his teeth together on Rose’s other side.

“What’s going on with Hugo?” Lucy asked with a concerned frown, her gaze moving between Hugo, Rose, Roxanne and Lily, while their parents continued to argue with loud voices, talking over each other, their words jumbling into an incoherent noise.

Lily shook her head at Lucy, muttering to her that they’d talk later. Everyone not being part of the argument was staring between Hugo and his father with bewilderment in their expressions, and after a short moment, Hugo stood up and walked briskly away from the sitting room, his shoulders tense.

Rose glared at her parents, before turning to Lily. “I’ll be right back,” she said and stood up to follow her brother. As she reached the kitchen, she could hear her mother shouting at her father over the noise, ordering him into someplace else for a discussion.

“Hugo.” Rose breathed as she stepped into the snow-covered garden through the back door.

Hugo was standing further in the backyard, his back against her, his arms gripping his sides. “Leave me alone, Rose,” He grunted, staring into the distance.

Snow was drifting slowly around them. “You know Dad’s an arse, and he’s had _way_ too many eggnogs, and he’s really worried for –”

“ – I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE, ROSE!” Hugo bellowed, turning around, his eyes flashing with rage.

Rose’s breath hitched in her throat. “I-I’m s-sorry,” she stammered quietly, watching as Hugo looked away, panting and swearing silently as he gripped his hair.

“I didn’t mean to – I’m – I’m sorry, Rose,” Hugo said absently, not looking at her. “I need to be somewhere else,” he muttered.

Rose took a step closer to him. “I’ll come with you – we’ll go to my place and –”

“No!” Hugo hissed at her, before scrunching up his face, anxiousness and anger mixing in his expression. “I need to be alone for a bit,” he continued tensely.

He then disapparated.

“Hugo!” Rose yelled in shock into the empty yard, feeling panic and surprise mix inside her. Where had he gone? She was fairly certain that Hugo shouldn’t be left to his own devices, but… could she even find him if she tried? Tears began to gather into her eyes, as she thought what could happen to her brother, and what he would do, being in the state he was.

“…Rose?” Albus asked tentatively, walking towards her from the direction of the front door. “Is everything all right?”

Rose let out a shuddering breath. “No,” she squeaked, blinking away tears. “Um. It’s Hugo,” she explained, “He disapparated, and I’m – I’m worried about him…” Rose said, her teeth clattering, and only then did she realise that she hadn’t put on a coat in her haste to follow Hugo outside.

“Okay,” Albus said and nodded slowly. “We’ll find him, don’t worry,” he added and pulled Rose into a hug when he reached her. “You’re freezing – let’s go back inside and –”

Rose shook her head firmly and pulled away. “I have to know that he’s all right, Al, but I don’t know where to go!”

Albus frowned, and suddenly, pushed his hand to the pocket of his coat, pulling out his phone. He stared at the screen for a long moment, before looking at Rose. “He’s at your place.”

“What?” Rose asked in bewilderment, “How do you know that?”

Albus nodded at his phone. “He just texted me. It says he’s at your place, and he asks me to ask you not to go there for a bit…” Albus said with a grimace.

Rose huffed and plucked the phone from Albus’s hand. She looked at the text that was visible in the screen, and indeed, Hugo had sent a message a moment before. Rose felt betrayed – why wouldn’t Hugo want to be in her company? And why had he texted Albus and not her?

“…I could go there?” Albus asked hesitantly. “Dunno if he’ll be all that happy to see me, but at least –” He shrugged. “At least he wouldn’t be alone…”

Rose stared at Albus, swallowing down the hurt and felt herself nodding several times. “Yes. Yes – you should go there.” She said, trying to think fast. “Just to…to see that he’s – that he won’t…”

“That he won’t, what, Rose?” Albus asked stiffly, frowning at her. “What exactly are we talking about?”

Rose winced. She really didn’t want to talk about Hugo’s business, since she assumed that all everyone else knew, was that Hugo had had a falling out with his parents and had come to stay with Rose for a couple of days.

“Rose?”

Rose let out a wavering breath. “He’s… he has been having some problems… with, um. Potions.”

“What…?” Albus muttered, staring at her with an expressionless look, his eyes moving between hers, before he cursed under his breath. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice now muted. “All right.”

Albus squeezed her shoulder and glanced at the house behind them. “You should go inside. But –” he said and cringed, “don’t use the back door.”

Rose lifted her brows at him.

“Your – um – parents. They’re having a row in the kitchen…”

Rose sighed. Of bloody course they were causing a spectacle during a family dinner. “Yeah, fine,” she muttered wearily.

“…Al?” Scorpius called from the distance, having followed him through the front door. “What’s going on?”

Albus gave Scorpius a tight smile. “I, uh. Gotta go. Sorry, mate. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?” He said with a meaningful look.

Scorpius shrugged. “Sure. Talk to you later.”

Albus turned to Rose once more. “Go inside. I’ll text you, okay?”

Rose chewed the inside of her cheek before she nodded. “Okay.”

Albus disapparated and both Rose and Scorpius stood in silence.

“So… inside?” Scorpius asked finally, glancing at the house.

Rose shook her head. “Not really in a mood to see my parents showing their exemplary behaviour.”

Scorpius inclined his head in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. I was in a need of a bit of fresh air anyway…”

Rose frowned at him. “You don’t have to stay here, Scor.”

“I’m fine. Let’s sit down, shall we?” He said kindly, nodding at the edge of the terrace next to the back door. “I can get your coat, if you want?” He added.

Rose watched him studiously for a moment. “I’d appreciate it.” She finally said, not having the energy to ponder over the mystery of Scorpius Malfoy and about his agenda. She needed her phone _and_ her wand. Which were both in the pockets of her coat.

Scorpius nodded hastily. “Brilliant. I’ll be back in a bit!” He said and quickly made his way towards the front door, while Rose trudged towards the terrace.

Scorpius appeared moments later with Rose’s coat, and then cast a warming charm around them, before taking a seat next to her on the edge of the terrace.

They sat in silence, and Rose kept staring at her phone. There were two texts from Nick, but Rose disregarded them, deciding to reply to him later, when the irksome mess regarding Hugo had been resolved. It felt like an eternity, before Albus sent her a text, telling her that Hugo was all right and that Albus would be staying with him at her place, until she would come home, hopefully not in a couple of hours.

Rose sighed wearily and stuffed her phone back into her pocket, gritting her teeth against the irritation she felt as she stared into the distance.

“…I take it the disaster has been avoided?” Scorpius asked quietly.

Rose glanced at him, her lips pressing together. “For now.”

Scorpius nodded slowly. “You _can_ talk to me, if you want, Rose. I won’t say a word about it to anyone else.” He said carefully. “Or – I could ask Lily to come here instead, if you’d prefer her company?”

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s all right – you can stay,” she said, wondering if Scorpius would know about Hugo’s situation anyway at some point, since Albus would probably explain him why he had to leave his friend at his grandparents’ house on Christmas Eve.

After a short silence, she spoke. “My dad’s obviously narked at my mum for being in a relationship with Bruce, and it seems that he’s trying to guilt her about not noticing what Hugo’s going through – when he could as well point his finger at me and himself, instead of mum,” Rose said sullenly.

Rose was aware that her mother had been trying to get through to Hugo for some time now, and that her brother had shrugged their mother off every time the conversation had turned towards Hugo’s apprenticeship. Rose _had_ noticed that Hugo had been acting differently, that he had been working too much, and she had tried to talk to him. She also knew that she should’ve tried harder, she should’ve seen it, realised what had been happening all along.

She noticed that Scorpius was watching her silently, not asking for details but merely listening to her. Rose gave him a grave look. “He was suspended from his program, because he has a potion addiction.”

Scorpius’s brows lifted up in surprise. “Oh.” He said with a stunned voice.

Rose looked away. “Yeah. It’s temporary. _If_ he can stop…”

“Has he?”

Rose hugged her bent knees against her chest, shivering slightly. Scorpius’s warming charm was starting to fade away. “He’s trying, at least,” she said thoughtfully, and gave Scorpius a grateful smile as the blonde Slytherin next to her cast another warming charm with a smooth wave of his wand.

“He says it’s not anything to worry about – that it has been going on only for a couple of months, and that he’ll figure it out,” Rose said heavily, wondering if Hugo really was as dim as he seemed, and actually believed that – or if he was simply lying to her. “He keeps himself calm and collected when I’m around him, but at nights…” Rose said, her voice cracking slightly.

Scorpius hummed thoughtfully. “I assume he’s trying to downplay the situation, trying not to make you worry for him…”

Rose let out a wavering laugh and looked at Scorpius with exasperation.

Scorpius’s mouth twitched. “Hey, I didn’t say he’s being rational.”

“He really isn’t.” Rose muttered. Her phone buzzed again, notifying her about an incoming call.

It was Nick. Rose chewed the inside of her cheek and dismissed the call, sending a text in return.

**_Having family dinner, I’ll call you later, yeah?_ **

She waited, staring at the screen as the three dots moved, indicating that Nick was writing her back. His reply came moments later.

**_Of course. Hope everything’s all right._ **

“…Everything okay?” Scorpius asked next to her, making her flinch slightly.

She blinked at him and then nodded. “Yeah. It was just – um – Nick,” she said, suppressing a grimace. She didn’t really fancy discussing Nick with Scorpius. “I’ll call him back later…” She muttered and then frowned as she looked away from Scorpius. Why was she explaining herself to him?

Scorpius cleared his throat. “How’s it going with him?”

Rose wanted to give him an incredulous look. Why was he asking about her relationship with Nick? Nick wasn’t friends with Scorpius, and Rose considered herself and the blonde Slytherin to be polite acquaintances rather than friends.

“It’s all right. Brilliant, even,” she said with a tight smile. “…And what about you, and, um… the flavour of the month?” She asked sharply.

The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. She could also see that Scorpius was rather startled by her. “I’m sorry,” Rose said quickly, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment. “You were being polite, while I was acting like a bitter hag,” she continued, giving him an apologetic look.

Scorpius watched her with a scrutinising look for a short moment. “It’s fine.” He said simply. “I’m not with anyone. Haven’t been seeing anyone for a while, and –” he cleared his throat, his eyes flickering to the phone on Rose’s hand and back to her eyes, “I probably won’t be.”

Rose stared at him, utterly surprised. What did he mean? Was he – had he been hoping to get back with her, and now he was backing off because she was happily together with Nick? Rose opened her mouth in order to question him – even though she wasn’t sure _how –_ when the door opened behind them.

“There you are!” Lily spoke with an airy voice, and when Rose turned to look at her, she could see a knowing glint in her cousin’s eyes.

“Your parents left, Rose,” Lily continued and gave Rose an understanding grimace. “Is Hugo all right?”

Rose sighed and stood up. “Yeah, he will be.”

“Mum’s ready to leave as well. You staying with us, Scor, or are you going home?” Lily inquired from Scorpius.

Scorpius stood up and brushed a hand over his long coat, straightening the fabric. “I should go home,” he said stiffly, before looking at Rose with a hint of a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

After Rose and Lily both had said their goodbyes to him, Scorpius walked past Lily and stepped inside the house, supposedly to thank Rose’s grandparents and to floo to his home.

“ _So.”_ Lily said pointedly after a short silence.

Rose gave her cousin an exasperated look.

Lily lifted her hands up in a calming gesture. “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“I know what you were _about_ to say,” Rose said grimly.

Lily sighed and took a step closer to Rose and pulled her into a warm embrace. “Can we talk? The day after tomorrow?” She asked with a frown when they pulled away from each other.

Rose nodded. “Of course,” she said, knowing that they had a lot of catching up to do, regarding Lily and Asher, Rose and Nick, Rose and Scorpius – apparently – and Hugo. “I’ll come to yours?”

Lily smiled. “Sounds like a plan! Now, come on, let’s go inside before my mum loses her temper. She’s been on edge the whole day because she wants to have the ‘perfect Christmas’, and apparently has a ton of chores for us before we can even dream of getting a wink of sleep. I bloody well hope Al’s not planning on staying at your place overnight and skipping on cleaning duty,” she finished with a roll of her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Thanks for the feedback :)


	20. Ginny

**Chapter 20: Ginny**

**Thursday, 25 December 2025**

It was beginning to look like one of the worst Christmases Ginny had experienced, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Albus hadn’t come home the previous night, Lily had been arguing with Ginny about every bloody thing she could think of, and James was locked up in his old room and barely came down to eat. Ginny wondered, not for the first time during the week, why had her children even agreed to come to stay at their old home over Christmas, if it was _so unbearable_ for them to be there?

One infuriating family member – the one living with her and married to her – was enough. Ginny wasn’t sure she had the energy to even think about Harry, let alone fight with him, after he had decided to live his life the way he wanted and not even consider asking Ginny’s opinion.

Ginny sighed and started to gather the ingredients for their Christmas meal by summoning them from the cabinets, while her eyes moved over the list she had made in advance, knowing that even with magic, it would take some hours to prepare everything. She thought about the last time she had been happy, and it felt like it had been in another life, even though she knew it was only weeks ago. It had been the day Harry had told her that he was going to start seeing a Mind Healer. Ginny knew that things could change, that in her past, they had changed rather suddenly from well to worst, and then back again. She knew that this could only be a phase which she simply had to endure…

She flicked her wand to cut the vegetables and thought about the dinner when Hermione and Bruce had come to spend the night with them – and how Harry had dropped the bomb about going back to work, and proceeded to ignore her the rest of the night, only to have a lengthy conversation with _Hermione._ It wasn’t the first time Ginny felt bitter about how good friends the two of them were, always _getting_ each other, in a way no one else seemed to be able to. At the same time, Ginny was grateful for having Hermione as her friend, and as Harry’s friend too. It was good that Harry had at least _someone_ he could talk to, outside of his Mind Healer, since he sure as hell didn’t talk to Ginny.

No, Harry had gone to see a Mind Healer only after he had talked with Hermione. Harry had then announced that he would be going back to work, and _only_ after he had discussed with Hermione, had he promised to think the plan carefully over, before making rash decisions.

Ginny hated it. She hated feeling jealous of her friend, because she understood Harry better than Ginny had ever understood. Of course, there was a lot the two of them – along with Ginny’s brother – had gone through together during their years at Hogwarts, which could easily explain it, but it wasn’t like Ginny had stayed under a rock that whole time. She had fought too – she too had been in danger!

And besides, it was years ago. There had been so much life afterwards, so many occurrences and troubles and happiness that was only between Ginny and Harry. But she still hated herself whenever she felt low and wished that she had been Harry’s best friend from the beginning, and not Hermione. It wasn’t like she was actively thinking it, no. It was only during times like these when she thought of it: when she couldn’t connect with Harry, when she couldn’t understand what he was thinking or going through.

“Hey, Mum.” Albus said cheerfully from the doorway.

Ginny whirled around in surprise, feeling the surge of anger rising in her. “Why didn’t you come here last night?” She asked sharply, all the while knowing that Albus _had_ his own home, and he was an adult, who was allowed to do his own decisions about where he was sleeping for the night.

Albus blinked at her, looking taken aback. “Um. I’m here now…” He said tentatively, walking closer to her. His black hair was flecked with snow, slowly melting away.

“What’s the point?” Ginny asked with a deep frown, “I don’t know why you all agree to come here on Christmas, when everyone just avoids one another? You and Lily rather stay with Rose and Hugo, and James is locked up in his room –”

Albus’s brows lifted up, “I don’t _rather_ stay with them, Mum – Hugo’s having some problems –”

“We _all_ have problems!” Ginny said harshly, her voice rising. “Why is Hugo’s problems more important than ours?” She asked, knowing she was being petulant, knowing that Hermione had spoken several times about Hugo and had actually been worried for him for a while, but couldn’t they see – couldn’t Albus see that nothing was well with their family either?

Harry walked into the room, clearing his throat. “Ginny, just let it go. Al was helping out his friend, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Ginny seethed inwardly. “I didn’t ask your opinion, Harry.”

Albus gaped at her, while Harry gave her a steely look. “Very well. Let me know when I’m needed.” He said coolly, before turning on his heels and marching away from the kitchen.

Ginny swallowed hard. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Their Christmas wasn’t supposed to be this awful!

“Was that… Necessary?” Albus asked quietly, pressing his lips together and watching her with disappointment in his eyes.

Of course he would feel sorry for his father, but he didn’t know, did he? He didn’t know how distant she and him had become, how little they communicated these days, how much Harry preferred the company of everyone else but hers? Well, Ginny certainly wasn’t going to burden his son with her marital problems.

Ginny sighed. “Probably not.” She said quietly and looked away. “I thought we were spending Christmas together, but… Looks like it’ll be far from what I thought it would be” She muttered, feeling hurt by every bloody person that was currently staying under the same roof with her.

“Mum,” Albus said with concern in his voice. “It’s only a bit over noon, and I am here to spend the Christmas together,” he said sincerely and placed a hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t make herself to look at him.

“Can I help?” Albus asked kindly.

Ginny swallowed down a lump in her throat. Albus actually _wanted_ to be in her company, and she was still unleashing her stress at him. She took in a deep breath and moved her gaze at him, forcing a smile on her face. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can.”

Snow was drifting past the window in front of them, as Ginny and Albus worked on the meal, chatting about Albus’s work while they roasted the turkey and vegetables with different spells, and mixed ingredients for sauces and fried bacon and sausages.

Some time later, Albus cleared his throat from the kitchen doorway, after levitating some of the food that was ready and under a stasis charm to the set table in the dining room. “Is… is everything okay with Dad?” He asked quietly, walking closer to her.

Ginny sighed, sprinkling toasted almonds on top of brussels sprouts. “Don’t worry about it, Al,” she said and looked at him over her shoulder. “We’re going to be all right.”

She knew they had endured a lot with Harry, including a war in which Harry had been targeted by a madman and his followers. During the trials and tribulations over the years they had been together, she had reminded herself what she and Harry had already been through, and how they had survived. And now she would do the same – she would give it time, and she would remind herself about what they had already been through. She wouldn’t give up on them.

Albus was silent as he levitated different foods in serving bowls and plates to the table in the dining room. It was already getting darker outside – the sun would set in an hour or so. Ginny could see the conflict in her son’s eyes whenever she looked at him, knowing that he was worried about his parents.

“How is Hugo?” Ginny asked, after the silence between them and the frown between Albus’s brows had become too deep. “I didn’t mean to underrate his situation, Al, I hope you know that…” She said quietly.

Albus leaned against the counter close to her and looked away. “He’s, um… working on it. It’s not good, Mum. But I know he can get through it.” He said with a sombre look.

Ginny blinked at him. What _was_ going on with Hugo? Hermione hadn’t said much to her, but had expressed a deep worry for her son. Then, the previous night, Ginny’s brother had acted like a jealous child and had started a row with Hermione, mentioning Hugo’s ‘situation’. And now, Albus seemed to know exactly what was going on with his cousin, but Ginny knew he wasn’t going to say more than he already had about the topic. That it wasn’t good. She watched as Albus started to summon bottles of butterbeer and wine from the cabinets, placing them to the side table.

“I hope you’ll come to me if there is anything, I can do to help him?” Ginny said quietly.

Albus inclined his head, his back still against her. “Yeah, Mum. I will.”

Ginny cleared her throat and nodded to herself more than to him, seeing as he was still turned away from her. “Will Scorpius join us?” She asked, wondering if their dining room table ought to be set for six instead of five.

“No. I went to see him before I came here. He’ll be with his dad today, and I’ll probably swing by there tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow,” Albus said simply, giving her a noncommittal shrug.

Even though Scorpius did usually join the Weasley clan for their Christmas Eve dinner, the boy rarely left home during Christmas Day. Ginny remembered only one occasion – the first Christmas after Scorpius’s mother had passed away – when he had spent the holidays with the Potters, without stepping a foot in his home. His father had asked Scorpius to stay at Hogwarts that year, and the boy had planned doing so, but then, Albus hadn’t been okay with his friend staying at the castle alone, and had insisted that Scorpius ought to spend his holidays with Albus’s family.

Naturally, Ginny and Harry had welcomed him with open arms, and while Scorpius had spent his holidays at the Potter house, looking more serious and troubled than a fourteen-year-old boy should ever look, Harry had gone to see Malfoy at the end of Christmas Day, and had stayed there for quite some time. Apparently, he and Malfoy had sat in silence and exchanged a couple of sentences, but Harry had still remained that it had been better than nothing. After that, things had got better with Scorpius and his father. His father still didn’t really celebrate Christmas, but they spent time together.

Ginny hummed. “All right then. What about Emma?”

Albus snorted and gave her an incredulous look. “What about her?”

“She joining us? Since you’re thinking on ‘popping the question soon’ – or whatever it was that Lily said yesterday,” Ginny said with a mischievous grin.

Albus groaned. “Stop listening to my sister. I already asked Emma to reign her father in, so that he’d stop sending owls to Dad.” He said with an exasperated look. “Besides, you should worry about Lily. She broke up with Asher, and who knows what plonker she’ll date next…”

Ginny gasped in shock and gaped at her son. “Lily broke up with Asher…?”

Just then, Lily’s voice carried into the kitchen from the hallway. Albus smirked at Ginny. “I just remembered that I need to change before dinner,” he said with a sly look and hastily left the kitchen.

“Lily!” Ginny yelled.

* * *

“…I don’t understand why you’re being so – I dunno – upset about it, Mum,” Lily said with an incredulous shake of her head. “It’s my life and my decision.”

“I know it is your decision, Lily,” Ginny said patiently, “I’m only worried you’ll go back – well – you know – to your old ways…” She said, grimacing when Lily gasped in outrage.

“My old ways _?_ ” Lily scoffed, dropping her fork against the plate with a loud clatter. “My _old ways_?” She asked again, her voice rising. “Care to elaborate, Mum?” She asked, scowling at Ginny.

There was a silence, during which Ginny stared at her daughter and counted into ten in her head to calm herself down. Lily was right, of course, that it wasn’t any of Ginny’s business. But Asher had been good for Lily, and had managed to calm her down somewhat. Before him – before the end of Lily’s sixth year – she had been a lot more volatile: she had been caught drinking several times at school and during the holidays, always sneaking around with a different boy. Sure, Ginny hadn’t been exactly a prude herself during her schoolyears and had dated several boys before Harry, but she wouldn’t have dared to sleep at a random bloke’s house during the holidays, when she was staying under her mother’s roof.

“…I mean… I can elaborate, Lils, if you’re suddenly experiencing a blackout…” Albus muttered. He and James were both smirking at their plates next to Ginny.

Lily glared daggers at his brothers. “I would keep my mouth shut if I was either one of you – I know a _lot_ of shite about both of you,” She said with a threatening glint in her eyes.

Albus shrugged and James continued eating in silence. Harry sighed next to Lily and gave Ginny a long look, as if asking, if it was necessary to bicker during their Christmas meal.

Ginny gritted her teeth together, before she spoke. “You’re right,” Ginny said simply, meeting Lily’s determined gaze, knowing that there was no point of arguing with her. After all, she was of age and capable – at least, Ginny hoped so – to make her own decisions. “I’m just worried for you.”

Lily pursed her lips and took a sip of her wine. “Don’t be, Mum,” She said, her voice now softer.

Harry cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, there’s something I want to say to everyone,” he said and eyed at the curious looks everyone gave him. “Well, your mother already knows,” he said with a grimace, and Ginny barely suppressed a roll of her eyes.

“What is it, Dad?” Albus asked, frowning at his father.

James and Lily too watched their father with curious and suspicious looks.

Harry gave them a tight-lipped smile. “I’m going back to work. Back to the field.”

There was a shocked silence, and Ginny felt her children’s surprised gazes move between her and Harry, while she fixatedly stared at the table.

“W-What…?” James muttered.

“But Dad –” Albus started, but was interrupted by Lily.

“– You’re taking the piss, right?” Lily asked sharply, staring at him in bewilderment.

Harry looked somewhat uncomfortable, and there was a tinge of redness on his cheeks. “I will not be afraid to live my life, and I want to go back,” he said firmly.

Albus scoffed. “You – you what?”

“What does Mum think about it?” Lily asked disbelievingly. “Surely you’re not agreeing to this?” She asked from Ginny.

Ginny took in a deep breath and looked between her children and Harry. Harry lifted his brows at her, as if he was challenging her to take a side, like a bloody prat. Oh, she had a side, and he was very much aware of it!

“Your father has made his decision, and – and –” Ginny said tightly, suppressing the urge scoff at Harry and tell him that he’ll be alone with his wants and needs, and that he can very well face their children’s complaints by himself. But she knew it wouldn’t really help anything. – “and we will support him, as a family should.” She said, feeling somewhat proud of herself, as her instincts said something completely different.

Harry looked surprised, before his expression softened somewhat. “Thanks, Gin.”

Lily crossed her arms against her chest and narrowed her eyes at her father, evidently disagreeing. Albus and James had similar expressions written on their faces.

Harry trailed a hand through his hair. “I know that it might shock you –”

“Well, that’s the understatement of the year,” James muttered.

“– but I want to say that I have truly given it a lot of thought,” Harry continued, his voice sharper now as he glanced at James. “Being in the field and directly helping people is what I always _wanted_ to do, what I’m good at.”

Lily shook her head slightly. “But Dad – that was ten years ago! What if – what if…”

“What if something happens?” Albus finished for Lily, watching his father intently. “The last time something happened, it wasn’t exactly a simple thing to overcome, was it?”

Ginny watched her children, who were all evidently thinking about the incident at the end of the summer, and how it had affected their lives. How it had changed both their parents.

Harry’s jaw tightened, before he nodded at Albus. “You’re right. It wasn’t.”

“Then… _why_?” Albus pressed on, frowning deeply at his father, looking both irritated and worried.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses going askew. He straightened them and then watched Albus with a resolute expression and spoke with a steady voice. “Because I need to do it, for myself.”

Silence fell around the table, and they continued eating. Ginny wondered, if it was the most uncomfortable family dinner they had ever had. Of course, not all was bad – James was there, and he seemed to be genuinely worried for his father, after hearing the news. He and Harry were trying to get over their disagreements and be a family again. They were all _there,_ wanting to at least try to be a family. Ginny could only hope that it would get better still.

* * *

Later that evening, they lounged in the sitting room, sipping their drinks and listening to Christmas carols from the muggle radio Albus had brought some time back after tinkering it so that it worked in their home without issues. They had short discussions that were mostly started and kept on going by Lily, Ginny and Albus, revolving around Lily’s last year at Hogwarts and Albus’s and Ginny’s jobs. When Lily and Albus moved to the other side of the room to start a ‘healthy’ game of Wizard's Chess, Ginny, Harry and James stayed by the fire, and the air quickly became tense around them.

Harry eyed James studiously.

“What?” James asked, looking reserved.

Harry took a sip of his Firewhiskey and lifted his brows slightly. “Just wondering if you have a plan for next year – about Quidditch – and if there’s something your mother or I can do to help.”

Ginny grimaced inwardly. Quidditch had become a sore subject with James, after he and Ginny had had an argument in the beginning of the week at breakfast table. James had yelled at her and said that he’ll face bench soon, after she had insisted that his last match had gone well, and that he was being ridiculous to think that he had anything to worry about next year. He had calmed down quickly, when everyone had started to bombard him with questions, and closed himself off, telling them that he was going to figure it out by himself.

Ginny had managed to extract _some_ information from James about the gravity of the situation, and indeed, it seemed rather serious. James’s manager had threatened to bench him if his game didn’t improve in the beginning of January. Of course, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, and wouldn’t necessarily affect James’s contract with the English national team, as Ginny knew – after being so many years in the Quidditch scene – that benching could be explained as a player suffering a mild injury if needed. It would, however, bring James unwanted publicity, seeing as he was one of the star players in the league and was well-known in wizarding Britain and in some European wizarding areas.

James gritted his teeth before he gave his father a hard look. “Yeah. I have a plan. Try not to suck.” He said and stood up. “I’ll be at the pitch,” he muttered and left the room.

Harry sighed wearily and stared silently at the flickering fire. Lily and Albus were too focused on their game to notice anything around them, and kept laughing and mocking at each other whenever either of them made a move.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Ginny said, as the silence between her and Harry stretched.

Harry glanced at her and hummed in agreement, before looking away, with disappointment in his eyes.

* * *

James was flying on his broom, throwing a Quaffle through the hoops when Ginny treaded across the snowy lawn and reached the pitch that was lit in the middle of the otherwise dark grounds.

She sat down on a bench on the edge of the field and looked up as James continued to train, not glancing down, even though he was evidently aware of her presence.

He was a magnificent flyer, effortlessly doing hoops and circles on his broom at high speed, like he was born to do it. He had such a rare talent, that it hadn’t really been a surprise that James had secured a position with the Magpies even before his seventh year had ended. He hadn’t disappointed anyone. He had shined and continued to show more talent, only improving during the years.

Ginny wanted to keep gazing up at him and forget everything else. Quidditch had always meant a lot to her, and she knew James was like her. He would’ve traded anything in his life to play and fly, and he had already traded away so much. She wasn’t sure if he could handle it if he was put on a bench – if he wasn’t allowed to play anymore.

She didn’t know what had caused James the issues he was now facing, and she didn’t know how to help him. She wanted, though. She didn’t want him to think that he was all alone, that he should be figuring out whatever it was by himself. Ginny had always thought that she understood James, in a way, perhaps that Harry hadn’t, since she _had_ been in his shoes. She had played professionally, she had been under the pressure, and had felt the urge and the need to be on the pitch, to succeed. She only hoped that James would know that she had always supported him and on some level, understood him.

Several warming charms later, James finally made his way down and landed in front of her. He sighed and sat down next to her, putting his broom to lean against the bench. It was snowing lightly.

They stared forward, not saying anything for a while.

“Well? What did you think about the overhead kick?” James suddenly asked, glancing at her with a muted expression.

Ginny studied his features. It had been perfect, really, but she wasn’t going to let him go with it so easily. “It was good. Really good. But… Did you aim for the left hoop?” She asked with a flicker of a smile.

James snorted and shook his head. “You know I didn’t.”

Ginny smiled at him. “Then, you ought to correct your aim a bit,” she said gently.

“A bit hard to do when no one’s passing me.”

Ginny nodded. “I could. I could train with you, if – if you like?” She asked tentatively.

James gave her a scrutinising look. “You won’t hog the ball?”

There was a ghost of a grin on his face. Ginny laughed. “If you’re fast enough, I won’t.”

“Bloody hell,” James muttered, and looked away, amusement in his expression.

She placed a hand over his arm. “You know I’ll help you in any way I can, James. You know that, right?”

James swallowed hard and stared at his lap. “Yeah, Mum.” He said quietly.

“You’re brilliant, and you know it as well,” she continued. “What I saw just now, I’m not sure I have seen on the field – during your games – for some time…” She said, inwardly wishing that he didn’t shut her off now. Hoping that he would listen. “I know you want to play, that you want to be in the team.”

“I do.” James said edgily, his jaw tight.

Ginny nodded slowly. She wondered, if the problem was in the team, and not with James’s skills. Had something happened between him and his teammates that had caused this? She knew he was close with most of them. She knew that a team was like a second family to most players, as they spent so much time together, seeing each other in their best and worst moods. It could easily affect James’s game like it had, if there had been a falling out in the midst of friends.

Her mind whirled. She had a general knowledge of what was going on in the Quidditch scene, and knew that one of James’s friends was going back to his own team in the next transfer window after being on loan for Magpies. “Is it – are you upset because Oliver is leaving?” She asked, aware that James and Oliver were – at least had been – close friends.

James’s expression hardened, and he didn’t look at her when he spoke. “We ended things in bad terms.”

Ginny watched him for a moment, trying to detect what he was feeling. “I’m sorry,” She said eventually, and chewed the corner of her lips. How bad had things been between them? Was it something that should be corrected before James could focus on his game again?

James sighed and hung his head. “It’s my fault.”

Ginny frowned at him, somewhat taken aback by the fragile tone in his voice. “Perhaps… Perhaps you should give it some time?” She asked carefully, examining his reaction.

James huffed while his hands clenched into fists over his lap.

“…And when things have cooled down, then, _then_ you could write to him, and apologise?”

His lips turned into a rueful smile, before he shook his head slightly and schooled his expression. He turned to look at her, and it was evident that their little chat was over. “Yeah. Thanks, Mum.”

“Now – are you gonna pass me the ball from the ground, or do you have the bollocks to fly with me?” He asked, standing up.

Ginny arched a brow at him. “I’m afraid I only have metaphorical bollocks, but I’m sure they’re more than enough,” she said with a sniff, and flicked her wand to summon her broom from the nearby broom shed.

James snorted and mounted his broom, before zooming off and leaving a whirl of snow behind him.

“Arse.” Ginny muttered while transfiguring her robes into something more suitable.

“I heard that!” James yelled, sniggering as Ginny zoomed right after him.


	21. Albus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think <3

**Chapter 21: Albus**

**Wednesday, 31 December 2025**

“…I promised myself I’ll read more next year – or, at least turn the subtitles on while watching TV,” Lucy said with a small smirk.

Many around the table laughed lightly. Lucy sat between her boyfriend Scott and Albus’s sister, with Rose on Lily’s other side and Louis on Scott’s other side. Albus sat opposite to Lucy and Scott, between Hugo and Roxanne’s new boyfriend whose name Albus didn’t remember, even though the bloke had been in Hufflepuff in the same year as Albus had been in Slytherin. On the Hufflepuff’s other side sat Roxanne and Dominique.

Scarlett and her friends had taken over the sofa close to the table, and were sniggering loudly at something Albus couldn’t quite catch.

“…Well, _I_ try to be a bit nicer to people who do exactly what I want,” Dominique said simply.

Albus snorted and leaned slightly forwards to give his cousin a pointed look. “You mean your boyfriend?”

Dominique flipped him the bird while everyone burst in laughter.

“Oh, piss off, Al,” Dominique huffed.

Albus shrugged. “Your resolution was practically begging for someone to say that.”

Dominique rolled her eyes. “What’s yours then, clever clogs?”

Albus smirked at her and then let out an indifferent sound from the back of his throat. “Don’t need resolutions. My life’s already perfect.”

Rose, Lily and Lucy booed while Dominique and Roxanne groaned in exasperation. Albus sighed. “Fine,” he said after glancing at Hugo and seeing his arched, disbelieving brow, “My resolution for next year is to stay as single as I did this year.”

“That’s a load of pants, but whatever,” Roxanne said while leaning backwards and giving him a bored look over her boyfriend’s back. “At least I’ll try to be productive, since my New Year’s resolution is to help all my lovely friends and cousins gain ten pounds so I look skinnier,” She said sweetly, smiling at everyone.

Rose snorted. “…Knew there was something dodgy going on when _you_ of all people arrived with a mountain of baked goods,” She said dryly.

Roxanne laughed. “All right, but truthfully, I promised myself I’ll give up sugar for at least a month. What about you, Rose?” Roxanne asked with a grin.

Rose hummed thoughtfully. “Was thinking on cutting back on drinking and having no more than three bottles of wine per week.”

“Hear, hear!” Scarlett stated from the sofa, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Even though we both know your resolution will only last until the end of next week.”

Rose scoffed. “With you as a flatmate, I’m sure,” she said simply. “What’s yours, then? Stop reading embarrassing fanfic?”

Scarlett snorted loudly, while everyone, including Albus, looked between the girls in bewilderment. “You know I wouldn’t,” Scarlett said casually.

“What’s that about?” Lily asked suspiciously.

Albus too lifted his brows at Rose.

Rose laughed and shook her head. “Nothing.”

Albus glanced at Hugo, who was smirking at the table and not looking at anyone else. Before Albus could question him further – as he obviously was aware what the girls were talking about – his sister asked from Scarlett, what her resolution was.

Albus took a sip of his Firewhiskey and glanced at Scarlett, just as the girl shrugged nonchalantly and spoke.

“Try to stop watching porn so much.”

Albus outright spat his drink straight into Hugo’s neck, who yelled in surprise and disgust, before abruptly pulling out his wand from his pocket and cleaning up the mess. And Albus wasn’t alone with his reaction: most of their group were either coughing up or nearly choking onto their drinks.

“Bloody hell, Scarlett,” Albus said and shook his head at the girl, who was cackling on the sofa and holding her stomach. “Next time give us a warning, will you?”

Scarlett grinned and waved a hand, dismissing him, and Albus turned to look at his cousins and sister.

“So – Louis?” Rose asked, after finally tearing her disapproving gaze away from her flatmate.

Louis grimaced. “Uh. Try to get a job that pays good after school.”

“Boring!” Lily quipped and rolled her eyes before taking a long drink from her glass of wine.

Albus narrowed his eyes at Lily’s glass. “Do I even want to hear what’s yours?”

Lily sniggered, a sly grin spreading on her lips. “I think not. But I’ll tell you anyway,” She said with a shrug, and looked straight into Albus’s eyes as she spoke. “Next year, I’ve decided to be more active… _Sexually_.”

Many snorted around her, thinking it as a joke – and it probably was, just to piss Albus off – but Albus wasn’t amused. At all.

“Yeah?” Albus asked with a challenging look.

Lily let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re no fun, brother,” she said innocently, and then glanced at the others. “Well then, since we’re trying to avoid Al getting an aneurysm, my resolution is to do well in my studies, and not sleep around, and _definitely_ not date anyone until I’m old and wrinkled,” she said sweetly, looking at Albus again and winking at him.

“Fuck off, Lily.” Albus grunted, somewhat annoyed by her. “Besides. We all know you – and know that that would be completely impossible for you to accomplish.”

Lily scoffed. “I’m an adult, you know – like you?”

Albus let out a dry laugh. “Why would that have anything to do with it? And just to make it clear: you’re the furthest thing from an adult that I know, sister.”

Lily narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, thank you, Al. You’re so sweet,” She said with a small sneer.

Albus smiled unkindly at her. “Only for my dearest sister.”

“ _Ookay_!” Roxanne said suddenly, her voice louder, cutting off the impending row between Albus and his sister. “What about you, Owen?” She asked and smiled at her Hufflepuff boyfriend.

_Owen!_ Albus thought, mentally snapping his fingers.

Owen cringed. “Uh, not doing those,” he said with a shrug.

“Neither am I,” Scott said and took a swig of his beer. “Never have.”

“Too bad,” Dominique said simply, “It’s always fun to see who can actually keep their resolutions.”

Lily smirked at her cousin. “I’m sure.”

Dominique pursed her lips at Lily, before leaning forward to look at Hugo, on the other end of the table. “What about you, Hugo?”

Hugo’s brows twitched. Albus exchanged a quick look with Rose, both of them aware about Hugo’s situation, and somewhat anxious to hear what he had to say.

“Thought I’d stop drinking,” Hugo said and lifted his glass of pumpkin juice, giving it a thoughtful look, “It’s already going rather well, I’d say.” He smirked at Dominique’s bored expression. “Oh, and stop hanging out with people who ask me about my New Year’s resolutions.”

They continued chatting about work and school, and their plans for the next year. Albus’s phone buzzed in the pocket of his trousers, as Dominique went on about her upcoming trip to France next year, in order to prepare for the World Cup.

It was Scorpius.

**_Heading over to Flint’s. Don’t know if we’ll go down the pub, send a text if you’re coming._ **

Albus huffed and quickly typed back a message to his friend.

**_I said I would, didn’t I? Anyway, I’ll be there in a couple of hours..._ **

It wasn’t yet nine in the evening, so there was still plenty of time. He saw that Scorpius was replying to him and kept the phone in his hand, glancing at the others, who were engaged into the discussion about the Quidditch World Cup – except Rose, who was watching Albus with a small frown between her brows. The moment she saw him looking, she moved her gaze away. He received another text from Scorpius.

**_And I said I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t, mate. I know you want to be there, Al. And it’s all right. We’ll hang out tomorrow anyway, right?_ **

Albus sighed wearily and sent him the middle finger emoji with a request of quit being an arse. He also wrote to Scorpius that he would text him when he’d leave Rose’s place.

He pushed the phone back to his pocket and grabbed his half empty glass of Firewhiskey, laughing when Louis finished a story about an embarrassing incident in their Herbology class right before the holidays. Albus felt Rose’s gaze on the side of his face, but he didn’t want to look back at her and confirm that it had indeed been Scorpius who had texted him, and then explaining why the blonde Slytherin wasn’t there to spend the evening – and that he was in fact the reason Albus was going to leave the group early and not stay until the clock struck twelve.

See, Scorpius had been invited to Rose’s and Scarlett’s party as well, but Rose had told Albus that it had been only because she thought that otherwise Albus wouldn’t have made an appearance. Which had been… annoyingly correct. Scorpius was Albus’s best mate, and Albus probably wouldn’t have even thought of coming if Rose hadn’t invited Scorpius, or if Scorpius hadn’t urged Albus to come, even though he had decided not to.

Albus thought that Scorpius not coming was the better option, because even though he knew that Scorpius was still thinking of Rose and hadn’t really moved on from her, Albus wasn’t sure if he wanted his cousin and his best friend to end up dating again. It had taken a lot of time, for them to reach this state, where they didn’t really mind each other’s presences. Still, Albus could only appreciate his cousin, who had been willing to be in her ex’s presence, just to be around Albus.

Of course, Scorpius and Rose spending time together didn’t automatically mean that they would start dating, but Albus wasn’t going to hold his breath and hope for the best. There was still Nick though, who Rose had been seeing for a month. A relationship Albus didn’t think would last, since the two of them were different, and wanted different things – at least Albus thought they did. More importantly, Nick wasn’t there, and Albus reckoned Rose didn’t seem overly miserable by his absence.

James and Fred were both no-shows as well, and while Fred had gone to a party one of his mates had organised, Albus knew James had opted to stay in for the night. Albus reckoned James was trying to change for the better and focus on his career rather than partying, which had made Albus glad and relieved. Perhaps it had been a good thing that James’s manager had pulled him aside after their last match, and given him a warning.

His brother had been awfully quiet and brooding during the few days they had stayed at their old home, and as annoying as it had been, Albus hoped it meant James wouldn’t go back to his old ways – to him arsing around and not caring one bit if he was behaving inappropriately or leaving a trail of mess behind him. Albus hoped James would sort out his shit permanently and would finally grow the bloody hell up and take responsibility.

He thought about their chat on Christmas Eve morning, before they had gone to the Burrow – the only chat he and James had had in a long time. James had asked Albus, if he was happy with his life, and if what he did – being a sports journalist – was something he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Naturally, Albus had told him that while he was quite content with how things now were, he knew it wouldn’t last. But even though he knew his life wouldn’t stay the same, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it now. He had then asked if James had ever thought of doing anything else besides play Quidditch. His brother had quickly shaken his head and told Albus that he would stop when someone made him stop, but not a moment before. For his brother’s sake, Albus really hoped James would turn everything for the better.

“…Oi! Potter!” Scarlett called, punching him on the shoulder.

“Fuck,” Albus grunted in pain, giving an incredulous look at the witch. She sat on the seat next to Hugo’s, while Albus’s cousin had disappeared somewhere, unnoticed by Albus. He rubbed his shoulder and frowned at Scarlett. “What was that for?”

Scarlett snorted. “You being a daydreaming prat,” She said and nodded in front of him, on the table. “Pick a card.”

Albus looked at the game and the pack of cards their group – now added with Scarlett and her friends who had squeezed around the table – had decided to play, and groaned as he recognised what it was. “Fine,” He sighed and took a card and turned to read it.

He arched a brow at the text. “ _Most likely to say ‘I love you’ too early”,_ Albus spoke aloud and then glanced over at the table. He shrugged. “Rox probably.”

Roxanne scoffed, while her Hufflepuff boyfriend stammered, before he was urged to take a card.

He snorted.

“Well?” Roxanne urged. “What does it say?”

“Um,” Hufflepuff said, frowning at the others, before reading. “ _Who gets the most aroused watching midget porn?”_.

Many of them sniggered at the question.

“Well?” Dominique asked, a smirk curving her lips. “You have to say someone.”

The Hufflepuff groaned, rubbing his face. “I don’t know you guys well enough!”

“Personally, I think it could be Albus,” Roxanne said sweetly, fluttering her lashes at Albus when he arched a brow at her.

“Oh yeah? Why not Ms Porn Addict here?” Albus asked, nudging his head at Scarlett.

Everyone laughed.

“Please. In _your_ dreams.” Scarlett said primly, her eyes dancing.

Albus sniggered.

“Okay, I’m next,” Roxanne said and took a card. “ _Who will be the most difficult old person to be around?”_ Roxanne spoke, and turned on her left, grinning at Dominique.

Dominique scoffed. “Don’t you dare.”

Roxanne shrugged. “Sorry love, but I think we’ll all agree upon that. Doesn’t mean we won’t love you though.”

“We _might_ be inclined to love you a bit less, though, depending how difficult you’ll be,” Hugo said, finally taking his seat next to Albus.

Dominique shook her head at him. “You’re only getting away with that because you’re cute, Hugo, but it won’t last,” she said to him with a warning in her voice. She took the next card and sniggered.

“ _If we were all police officers, who would be the dirty cop?”_ Dominique said and smirked at Lily. “Oh, Lily, _definitely._ ”

Lily shrugged and gave an indifferent look at her cousin. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.”

They played the game a couple of rounds, until Scarlett’s friends announced that they would be heading to pubs for the night.

“You could’ve gone with them, Scar,” Rose said with a hint of concern in her voice as Scarlett sat back at the table, taking the free seat next to Rose.

Hugo, Louis and Lily had taken over the sofa.

“What? And miss all the possible amusement you’ll be surely providing me?” Scarlett asked and gave Rose a pointed look. “Don’t worry love, I can still get shit-faced at home.”

They proceeded to play a round of exploding snap – with the twist of it being a drinking game. Which meant that every time the cards spontaneously ‘snapped’, the last one hitting the identical pair of cards was the one who had to quaff their drinks in one gulp. While Albus hadn’t been even close to the cards whenever they exploded, he had been the last one hitting them, for several times in a row.

Which meant that he was on a steady road to be soused.

He didn’t even notice at first that his phone was buzzing in his trousers. After managing to snatch it from his pocket, Albus stared at the screen for a long moment with a deep frown between his brows. It was close to eleven in the evening, close to a time Albus was supposed to meet his friend.

**_Decided to head home. Didn’t really feel up for it. Sorry mate. See you tomorrow?_ **

What the hell was Scorpius planning? He didn’t feel – what – up for it to spend a night with Albus and their other friends? Celebrating New Year’s? He huffed, and stood up, murmuring his excuses before marching towards the balcony.

Albus wasn’t going to let him off the hook this easily. Not without explanation.

He pushed the call sign on his phone and sat down on one of the chairs in the balcony after brushing away snow from it. As the he waited for Scorpius to pick up, he quickly flicked his wand around him, casting a somewhat sloppy warming charm. He glanced around him afterwards, only realising he hadn’t made sure that there wasn’t anyone watching him brandishing his wand. Luckily, he detected no one. It was dark, and the neighbour balconies were empty.

“ _Al.”_ Scorpius said when he answered. “… _Knew you’d give me a ring.”_

It sounded like he was outside, walking.

Albus snorted. “ _If you don’t want me to, stop acting funny.”_ He said with a wry tone in his voice. “ _Where’re you?”_

Scorpius sighed. “ _At the Manor_.”

“ _Okay – why?”_ Albus asked simply, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waited for his reply.

Another sigh. “… _Told you. Didn’t feel like it. Wanted to be home,”_ He said bluntly.

Albus hesitated. Occasional fireworks boomed in the neighbourhood, cutting the silence. _“I’m probably okay to apparate still – since, you know – Rose doesn’t have a firepl –”_

“ – _Al_ …”

_“What? What, Scor? What’s going on?”_ Albus asked quickly, feeling slightly frustrated by his friend. He frowned at the door as it opened.

Scarlett walked in, gave him a quizzical look and then beckoned between the cigarette she was holding and the door, evidently asking if he wanted some privacy. Albus waved a hand in dismissal and turned to stare at the street under him while Scorpius spoke and while Scarlett lit her cigarette. There was a group of men and women walking across the street, laughing merrily.

_“…Nothing’s going on, Al. I’ think you should stay there, though. Or go to Flint’s if you like.”_

Albus frowned at Scorpius’s distant voice. He really hoped there would soon be a phone flicking the ear of the receiver whenever it was necessary. He knew his friend well. Albus knew there was something bothering Scorpius, but at the same time, he knew his friend wouldn’t speak about it over the phone. _“So – nothing has happened? I thought we were gonna spend the night together?”_

Scorpius was silent for a moment. _“Sorry, mate. I’m knackered, really. We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”_

Albus chewed the inside of his cheek. _“Yeah, sure,”_ he said and then continued, _“You sure you don’t want me there?”_

_“As much as I cherish your company, Potter – I’m afraid this time I’ll have to decline it,”_ Scorpius said, overly polite, and Albus could detect an eyeroll in his voice. _“However, I am grateful that I’ll be able to have the pleasure tomorrow.”_

Albus snorted. _“I’m sure you do, darling.”_

_“Fuck off,”_ Scorpius grunted, and then continued, his voice now void of wryness, “ _But really. Have fun, Al.”_

Albus trailed a hand through his hair and watched as more fireworks bloomed in the dark sky, knowing there was no use in worrying about Scorpius right then. He would see his friend the next day and evidently hear about what was going on with him. _“Yeah. You too. Love ya. Bye.”_

Scorpius sniffed at the endearment. _“Bye, fucker.”_

Albus grinned and pushed his phone back to the pocket of his trousers, before glancing at Scarlett, who was midway of her cigarette. She gave Albus an understanding look.

“Women, right,” Scarlett said and sighed, “…Don’t you just hate it when we do that?” Scarlett asked, giving him a small grimace.

Albus stared at her in bewilderment. “Um. What?” He asked slowly, not really understanding what Scarlett was on about.

Scarlett arched a brow. “You know. Having a sudden change of one’s mind, brushing you off on New Year’s Eve – that sort of thing…”

He blinked. And then he realised that her comments had something to do with his recent phone conversation. Albus smirked at her. “It was Scorpius.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Scarlett said, and then nodded, giving Albus a scrutinising look – which Albus reckoned felt a bit too uncomfortable – before she continued airily. “Well, I suppose men do that sort of thing as well.”

“What?” Albus asked with a frown. When Scarlett continued to watch him with a pointed look, Albus realised exactly what she had heard – of him calling Scorpius ‘darling’, among other things – and quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, uh, it’s not like that,” Albus said and snorted. “…He most certainly wishes so,” Albus added wryly, and then saw the mild shock on Scarlett’s features.

Albus panicked. “It was a joke!” Albus quickly said, when Scarlett glanced inside the house, before looking back to him, evidently thinking about Rose.

“Really. It’s a joke, Scar,” Albus said firmly, standing up and taking a step towards her. “Don’t – don’t say anything to Rose – I’m sure she’d take it the wrong way,” Albus said and winced when Scarlett arched a brow at him.

Albus trailed a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated groan. How the hell had he got himself there? “We’re not bent. We’re just, you know, having a laugh, is all. We’re best mates. Like brothers.” Albus muttered, feeling somewhat uncomfortable trying to explain himself to Scarlett, when the girl merely watched him with a curious and amused expression.

Scarlett gave him a nod and they turned to watch the nearby fireworks lighting the sky. She glanced at him while puffing out smoke. “And how’s Scorpius doing? Is he all right?”

Albus shrugged. “Yeah, reckon he is. We were supposed to meet at Flint’s, but he decided to skip it,” he said and watched her suck the end of the fag as he spoke, “I’ll see him tomorrow anyway – how long have you been smoking?”

Scarlett blinked. “Dunno, a couple of years?”

He wondered if he had ever seen her outside, a fag between her fingers when they were at Hogwarts – but he couldn’t really remember even seeing her. Of course he had seen her, but not really… _noticed_ her. They had been in different years and had different friends. Mostly. Albus wondered, if Hugo had been her friend for long. He also wondered, why he hadn’t noticed her before. Because she was rather gorgeous.

“Why?” Scarlett asked curiously.

Albus twisted his mouth slightly. “No reason.”

She dropped the cigarette into a jar that served as an ashtray, not vanishing it like James always did. Albus watched her ministrations closely.

“So – are you going?” Scarlett asked, leaning against the railing.

Lights flickered over her face when the sky was illuminated by fireworks. “Where?” Albus asked, pushing his hands into his pockets. His warming charm was fading off, and he wasn’t wearing a coat, like Scarlett was.

“To Flint’s? Weren’t you supposed to go there?”

Albus sighed. Yes, he was – but there was no point going there now, since Scorpius wouldn’t be there. See, Albus wasn’t as ‘close’ with his former housemates as Scorpius was. He had never been. Since his first year, Albus had been the oddity of the Slytherin house – a lion’s cub in the snake pit. Perhaps it hadn’t really helped that Albus had spent a lot of his time in Hogwarts with his Gryffindor and Ravenclaw relatives. The only Slytherins Albus knew well, and spent time the most, were Scorpius and Emma. And that hadn’t really changed after Hogwarts.

“Might as well stay here. Would take forever to find a fireplace, since I’m not sure I want to apparate and risk losing a limb,” Albus grunted. He was certain he _could_ apparate and not splinch himself – well, not so badly a simple flick of his wand couldn’t fix it – but as he really didn’t want to open up to her about his decision, his explanation had to do.

They returned back inside and were informed by Rose, Lily and Roxanne, that they were all going to walk over to the Tower Bridge to watch the firework display that would take place in an hour. Albus groaned and tried to suggest if they could just go downstairs or to the shore – anything less than the thirty-minute walk the girls were insisting to take – but it fell on deaf ears.

* * *

The trip to the bridge and back was all Albus had thought it would be: completely unnecessary. Yes, they had seen a brilliant show of fireworks and counted seconds like everyone around them, and when the clock had stuck twelve, they had hugged and laughed and kissed – something Albus was rather sure he had accidentally done on one of his cousins’ lips instead of a cheek in the midst of the celebrations. But still, Albus thought they could’ve had done all that close to Rose’s flat as well.

It certainly would’ve been smart, seeing as they were all considerably more drunk than they had been when they had left Rose’s and Scarlett’s place three hours earlier, all thanks to the liquid snacks Rose and Scarlett had insisted everyone ought to take with. Which meant, their walk back to the flat had taken three times as long as the walk to the bridge had.

As soon as they dragged themselves inside the flat, Rose and Dominique took over the small sofa, in midst of a serious discussion – or as serious as two merrily drunk witches could be – that had begun halfway during their walk. Roxanne and her boyfriend – Owen the Hufflepuff – had left from the bridge towards Dulwich where Owen lived, after Roxanne had successfully vomited in the nearby corner and sobered significantly.

Albus sat at the table, between his sister and Scarlett, opposite to Louis, Lucy and Scott. Lily and Louis started to play exploding snap, while Hugo and Scarlett continued their earlier discussion about St Mungo’s and Healer training in general – which surprised Albus, as he had thought the subject was a sore one for Hugo. Perhaps it was, but then again, Albus thought if he had been in the same position, he would still likely talk about Quidditch, or write reports. It was what he knew.

Across the table, Lucy and Scott had managed to transfigure a kitchen chair into an armchair – Albus didn’t know how, since he was certain every spell he would try would end up in disaster, considering how pissed he was – and his cousin had climbed to sit on Scott’s lap to lean against him and rest her eyes.

When a particularly loud snap scorched half the table, Lily and Louis decided to end their game. Albus’s sister was yawning widely, and she disappeared to Rose’s room after murmuring her excuses about going to the loo. Lucy seemed to have awakened by the exploding sound, her expression quickly turning from sleepy into alert and then, very, very nauseous.

“That way!” Scarlett screeched suddenly, pointing towards the hallway bathroom, when Lucy slammed a hand against her mouth and clambered up from Scott’s lap.

Lucy ran to the bathroom, banged the door shut and started retching loudly.

“Shit,” Scott grunted wearily, stood up and followed his girlfriend, stopping behind the door and asking if she needed help.

At the same time, Rose and Dominique both had started sobbing on the sofa, while screaming words that got jumbled together so that Albus was certain no one – not even them – made any sense of them. It seemed like they were in a middle of an argument, but Albus couldn’t be sure – not at least when the two girls started hugging and crying against each other’s shoulders.

“…What the fuck?” Hugo whispered, staring at his sister and Dominique in a mild shock, before turning to give a horrified look at Scarlett.

Scarlett scoffed. “Why do ask _me_? It’s not like we’re _all_ like that, you know.” She said and gave a pointed look around the table, to Hugo, Albus and Louis.

Albus snorted. Of course, not _all_ girls were like Rose and Dominique whilst drunk – arguing first and then openly sobbing together – but Albus _had_ encountered several similar scenarios during his short life, in Hogwarts and afterwards.

“Something the matter, Potter?” Scarlett asked coolly, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Louis and Hugo exchanged a smirk. _Bloody cowards_ , Albus thought and gave Scarlett a pleasant smile. “Not at all,” he said sweetly, knowing Scarlett enough to know not to piss her off.

Scarlett nodded as Scott joined the table. “What did I miss?” He asked, frowning at Rose and Dominique, and then giving an unsure look at the others around the table.

“Nothing interesting,” Scarlett said simply, “Is Lucy all right?” She asked, glancing at the bathroom door as she stood up.

Scott shrugged. “Said she wanted to be alone for a bit, but otherwise all right, I think…”

“Where’s Lily?” Hugo asked, his gaze moving from Scott, to Louis, to Scarlett, and finally, to Albus.

Albus sighed, stood up and made his way towards Rose’s bedroom. Bloody hell if his sister would now start being the sibling giving him grey hairs, just when James had finally managed to pull his head out of his arse.

“I hope she’s not hogging the other toilet,” Scarlett muttered, before walking to the hallway to grab her coat, evidently going for a smoke.

Albus pushed Rose’s door open and blinked.

“Looks like she’s taking a kip,” Hugo said quietly behind Albus.

Indeed, Lily was curled on the bed, sleeping peacefully. And Albus was relieved. For a moment, earlier in the night, he had been somewhat bothered by Lily pondering if she ought to meet a couple of friends at Primrose Hill to watch the fireworks display and continue their night at a nearby pub. Albus knew Lily probably had more sense in her head than James, but he also knew that she was too daring, and thought that nothing bad happened to her – or at least, nothing she couldn’t handle. Sure, she knew what life outside of Hogwarts was like, and had experienced the same pressure of being a child of a war hero since birth, like the rest of them. But she knew nothing about how bad it could get. She didn’t know about James’s life and his problems, or what situations Albus had found him from, or what Albus had had to do for his brother, to help him out of a tight corner. And Albus wasn’t going to tell her anything. Whatever had happened, was between James and him. And probably some of James’s closest friends.

“Looks like, yeah,” Albus muttered and then backed out of the room with Hugo.

They returned to the kitchen to see Rose and Dominique still in the same position, still sobbing, while Scott and Louis sat at the table, chatting about French Ministry of Magic politics, both occasionally yawning, both slightly squinting at each other. Hugo told Albus he was in a need of some fresh air, and proceeded towards the balcony – which Albus thought was the furthest thing of fresh air, as Scarlett had disappeared there a moment before, a fag between her lips. Still, Albus followed Hugo outside.

“Oh, how nice of you to join me,” Scarlett said, smiling at Hugo and Albus.

Hugo sniffed and flicked his wand to cast a mild warming charm, before sitting on one of the chairs. Albus and Scarlett were left standing, the latter leaning against the railing with her back.

“Well, it was this, or, let’s see: watching two witches having a drunken little cry, or French Ministry politics,” Hugo said dryly.

Scarlett lifted her brows. “Two of my favourite topics!”

Hugo laughed, while Albus gulped down the contents of his glass of Firewhiskey he had brought with him. He saw Hugo glancing at him, before his cousin proceeded to ask from Scarlett, which one she did prefer.

While Scarlett and Hugo continued to talk with serious expressions – evidently mocking at the same time – Albus wondered, if his cousin was bothered by everyone waving their glasses of alcohol around him, when he couldn’t enjoy one. It was probably too late to inquire such a thing, but Albus still cleared his throat when the silence fell around them.

“It’s not weird, is it – us drinking while you can’t?” Albus asked, watching Hugo with a searching look.

Hugo frowned at him, as did Scarlett. Albus shrugged. “I only mean, if it’s making anything difficult for you, say so. And we won’t drink then.”

Hugo huffed and stretched his legs in front of him, while leaning his back against the chair, watching into the neighbourhood over the railing. “It’s not that I _can’t_ drink,” he said simply.

Albus and Scarlett exchanged a quick look, before Hugo continued.

“It’s just that I don’t want to.” He said wearily, and glanced at Albus and Scarlett. “Besides, it’s not _alcohol_ I want.”

Scarlett walked closer to Hugo, dumped her cigarette into the jar on the small table, and then squeezed Hugo’s shoulder. She sat down next to him. “How are you doing?” She asked quietly.

Hugo let out a long sigh, and stared forward, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“You know. You can talk to us, if you like,” Albus said, while watching his cousin closely. “It might even help…”

Hugo gave him a wry smile. “You sure you don’t fancy yourself a little training in mind healing?”

Albus chuckled. “Not really interested. Or in possession of other qualifications, if you remember my lack of _E_ in Charms and Defence,” Albus said, sneering inwardly at the reminder. His father had been so, utterly disappointed in him – and not a bit interested in the O’s and E’s in other areas – because Albus had botched up two of his father’s strong and favourite subjects in his NEWT exams.

“Well, they do take druggies like myself, so – I’d say the bar isn’t set that high,” Hugo said lightly.

Albus could see a flicker of shock in Scarlett’s eyes, that went unnoticed by Hugo, before the girl burst in laughter, along with Hugo.

Albus too snorted at the ruefulness of the situation and his cousin’s words. There was a short silence.

“But – you _can_ go back, right?” Albus asked tentatively, “After a certain period, right?”

Hugo nodded. “Yeah. After three months,” he said quietly and then grimaced. “After I go to rehab and keep staying clean.”

“How has it been?” Albus asked, feeling somewhat curious and worried for his cousin.

Hugo shivered slightly. “It’s been… Hell.” He sighed and rubbed his face, before looking at Albus. “I’m itching, I have headaches and nausea, I don’t sleep, I’m jumpy, irritated, and I just fucking want to take something, to make it go away.”

Albus stared at his cousin, feeling bad for him.

Hugo sighed wearily. “I know I won’t, though.” He said quietly, staring at the floor. “I want my life to be normal again, and I know what I need to do to make it so.”

There was a long moment of silence, before Hugo continued. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else, shall we? Enough pity and worry around here.” He said with a tight smile. “I’ll check what the others are up to, see if they’ll be up for a game or something.”

With that, Hugo went inside and left Albus and Scarlett in the balcony, in silence.

“Did you know it’s that bad for him?” Albus asked, watching Scarlett. Surely, she knew – she had bloody hell lived with him for the past few weeks.

Scarlett nodded grimly. “Not all of it, not in so many words, but – you know – I have eyes,” she muttered and dug another cigarette from her coat pocket. “He hasn’t really spoken about it, but I think he should. I hope he will…”

Albus nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he muttered, his eyes transfixed at Scarlett’s lips that were sucking the end of the cigarette.

“What?” Scarlett asked pointedly, and Albus realised he had been staring at her for a long moment.

He shrugged. “Nothing.” Not wanting to make it seem he had been merely gaping at her, he continued, “Just thinking about your New Year’s resolution and if you’re gonna hold on to it.”

Scarlett laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you did,” she said and shook her head. “You’ve been thinking about it the whole night, then?” She asked, smirking at him.

Albus gave her a sombre nod. “I have. I’ve thought a great deal about what kind of porn you’ve been watching – since midget is not in your repertoire – and how often,” Albus said matter-of-factly, barely holding back a laugh.

“Figured as much,” Scarlett said with an understanding look, her eyes dancing. “Well, since you ask: mostly het – some gay, of course: woman on woman, man on man, ATM, and naturally, some tentacle. You know the drill.”

A choked gasp left from Albus’s mouth, and Scarlett burst in laughter, shaking her head. “Should’ve seen your face,” She said casually, grinning up at him.

“That was – I don’t even know how to respond to that!” Albus said, feeling his ears flush and thanking Merlin it was cold enough that it went unnoticed. And Albus didn’t know _what_ to think, since he had thought he’d watched his share of porn, and knew what was what, but what Scarlett had described, was – definitely making him feel weird and curious to know more about her.

Scarlett finished her cigarette and dumped it into the jar, closing it. “So, what about you?”

Albus blinked. She wanted to know what kind of porn he watched?

“Your resolution?” She continued, evidently realising his line of though, if the smirk on her lips was anything to go with.

Albus cleared his throat, wondering what the hell he had said it was. He didn’t do resolutions, and what he had told the others earlier that day, was only for the sake of the ‘game’ – or whatever the hell it had been. “Um. Being single?” He asked, frowning at the floor.

Scarlett hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, well, not really doing any resolutions,” he said and shrugged, moving his gaze at her. “Decided to say something that was a given.”

“Swearing to be single?” Scarlett said thoughtfully, while nodding slowly. “I kinda like that.”

Albus lifted his brows at her. “I bet you do, porn-maniac.”

Scarlett snorted.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I bet we can make Hugo even more uncomfortable than we already did,” Albus said, nodding towards the door.

Scarlett sighed and stood up and walked inside, followed by Albus.

Someone had shut down the lights. There was a quiet snort beside him, and a second later, Albus’s eyes adjusted into the darkness. Rose and Dominique had passed out, still in each other’s arms.

But what was even funnier, was how Louis and Scott were positioned, in the armchair near the kitchen table, both sleeping soundly, their mouths hanging open. Scott was slouched in the chair, and Louis was on the floor, leaning against the armchair, his head resting between Scott’s thighs. Scott’s hand was over Louis’s head, as if he had been petting Albus’s cousin before dozing off.

He barely suppressed a snort. He exchanged a curious look with Scarlett, who mouthed ‘Hugo and Lucy’ and lifted her brows.

Albus walked quietly to Rose’s room, and glanced inside from the doorway. Hugo was sleeping on the floor on a thin mattress he had evidently conjured. Lily was still sleeping in Rose’s bed, only now tucked under a blanket. He pulled the door nearly closed and walked back to the kitchen, where Scarlett was drinking water.

“She’s sleeping on the bathroom floor,” Scarlett whispered, a small grimace on her face, her eyes flickering to Lucy’s boyfriend. “I reckon Hugo put a blanket over her and cleaned the room a bit.”

Albus smirked and took the half-empty glass Scarlett was offering him. The same one she had drank from. They stared at each other in silence, as Albus drank the glass empty.

“What now?” Albus murmured, placing the glass back to the counter.

They were standing rather close to one another, but Albus vaguely thought he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he wanted to be closer to her, he wanted to push the tendril of dark blonde hair behind her ear – the one that had fallen against her cheek – and he wanted to lean down and –

“What’re you doing?” Scarlett whispered, watching him closely.

She hadn’t moved away, but she wasn’t reaching to him either. But still, the air was growing charged and thick between them.

Albus licked his lips, both irritated and glad he wasn’t wankered enough to not have an erection, as he was, unfortunately – or fortunately, he wasn’t sure which – quite hard in his trousers.

He didn’t have to answer to her question, because the next moment, Scarlett took his hand and tugged it lightly. She let go, still gazing up at him, and Albus knew what it meant – he knew what that small movement, the small squeeze of his hand, and the burning look meant.

Scarlett took a step back, and then another. A smile curved one corner of her lips. And then she walked away from him, towards her room.

If there was ever an invitation for drunken sex, that was it.

Albus stood there for a moment, in silence, knowing how fucking wrong it was to follow her, but also knowing, how he wanted – oh, he _wanted –_ to follow her, and see where it would lead them to.

He knew what would happen, though, he was quite certain of it. He also knew what would happen in the morning, and what would happen when Rose would find out that Albus had shagged her flatmate – her friend.

Still, he followed her, deciding to risk it – because at that moment, he was sure that what she was offering, was worth it.

“…Took you long enough,” Scarlett said quietly, leaning against her bedpost, when Albus appeared to her doorway.

She was stark naked.

His eyes raked over her, taking in the enticing sight.

“Close the door behind you, would you?” She asked, before turning around and climbing onto her bed, offering him a delectable view of her behind.

Albus groaned inwardly. She was going to be the death of him, he was certain of it. He closed the door and then followed her on the bed, sliding on top of her, kissing her neck while his hips pressed against her bum.

He growled out a bitten-off curse, as pleasant waves flickered down his spine and stomach, going straight to his dick.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Scarlett breathed, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Can’t really get a leg over like that, can you?”

Albus snorted and lowered his forehead against her neck, breathing in her dizzying scent. “True,” he grunted, his voice roughened. He knew now was the time to have that chat with her, and not in the morning, after sex had happened, like he usually did. It had to be now, when he still had _some_ self-restraint left. If they could clear it up – that this was a one-night stand and only that – before anything regrettable happened, they could both enjoy the night. And possibly, not regret everything the next morning.

“Listen, Scar…”

Scarlett sighed and turned around to lie on her back, facing him, forcing him to lean backwards a bit.

“We _don’t_ need to have that conversation.” She said seriously, evidently realising what he was going to say. “I’m not assuming we’d be anything more than the same acquaintances tomorrow, than what we have been before this night.”

Albus watched her closely.

“I’m not a patient witch, Potter, not when I’m sprawled in my bed, starkers,” she said with a stern look. “Now. Take out your cock and put it in me.”

A grin spread over Albus’s lips. “Oh? That’s how it is? You sure you’re not into dominance porn?”

Scarlett arched a brow at him. “Didn’t say I wasn’t. Am I going to get a good dicking or not?”

Albus snorted but then gave her a shocked look. “The mouth on you!” His mockery quickly faded away, when Scarlett’s hands found the hem of his shirt, and the skin on his stomach, and then the inside of his trousers.

His hesitance faded away as well, when the witch under him all but ripped his clothes off of him, before slamming him to lie on his back, and climbing on top of him.

* * *

Later that night – well, early the next day, as it was close to six in the morning – Albus sneaked across the hallway, towards Rose’s bedroom. Everyone was still sleeping, and it was quiet and calm.

He finally reached Rose’s room and slipped inside, leaving the door slightly open. Hugo was deep in sleep on the floor, the side of the bed closest to him free, as Albus’s sister was snuggled on the other side of Rose’s bed.

Albus was boneless and exhausted after the night’s activities and slipped into the bed, letting out a quiet sound of content. He closed his eyes as his vision swam slightly. He was still slightly drunk, and in a dire need of a good night’s sleep. He ached all over – who the bloody hell would’ve known that Rose’s flatmate was a sexual deviant – and even though Albus had gone over the edge probably more times he ever had during one night, there was still that burning feeling, low in his stomach, that was asking for more.

“…Fun night?” Hugo mumbled next to him from the floor, making Albus jolt in surprise.

“ _Fucking shit,_ Hugo _!”_ Albus hissed, pushing up to stare at his cousin, who was smirking at him, his eyes somewhat drowsy with sleep.

Albus cleared his throat and leaned back against the pillow. “It was all right,” he said indifferently.

“Oh, I believe that.” Hugo said, amusement in his voice.

Albus cursed inwardly, and kept his gaze away from his cousin, who obviously knew _how_ fun his night had been. Bloody hell, Rose was going to murder him if – _when,_ because who was he kidding – she would find out.

“Night, Hugo,” Albus grunted, turning to his side, his back against Hugo.

“G’night.”

However, Albus didn’t fall asleep, even though he was exceedingly tired. No, his mind was spinning with images of the night, as well as Rose’s expected reactions. He knew how his cousin would get – she would probably curse him and then ask questions afterwards, since he was rather certain Rose wouldn’t accept ‘alcohol’ or ‘everyone else were passed out’ as acceptable reasons for his actions.

And then there was Scarlett, who had practically kicked him out of her room, after they had both been too tired to continue, and had simply lounged on her bed, panting, drunk with the overpowering bliss. She had had a point, though, Albus knew that. That soon, someone _would_ wake up, and then they would know. That it was best if they ended their night then and there, before making it complicated, when it didn’t have to be.

And while Albus knew it was a one-time-occurrence, and that he had insisted it himself, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

She had completely blown him away with her smooth and frail body, her wittiness, her savageness and vulnerability. She had teased him, bossed him around, and then spread herself for him, yielding to him. She was something that Albus was already craving to have again, to see again. She was an entrancing person, whom, Albus realised, he knew only little about.

He was desperate to find out more.


	22. Hugo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read the story, appreciated it and cheered me on through comments and kudos! Enjoy!

**Chapter 22: Hugo**

**Tuesday, 6 January 2026**

“How are you feeling today, Hugo?”

Hugo stared at his lap, feeling Healer Hunt’s eyes watching him carefully while silence stretched between them.

It was his second session, and Hugo was feeling almost as uncomfortable as the first time, the previous week. Last time Hunt – Samantha, or _Sam,_ she had told him to address her if it was more comfortable for him to do so – had explained the process to him, of them meeting weekly to discuss Hugo’s situation and then had asked what Hugo was hoping to achieve by coming there. Hugo had told her that he _had_ to come there. She had asked him to tell her more about why he felt he had to come. _As if it wasn’t necessary, given his options_ , Hugo had thought. Hugo had given her a blank look and told her that otherwise, he would face charges and possibly go to Azkaban and ruin more lives than his own. Hunt had merely hummed thoughtfully and watched him with a scrutinising look.

He knew it wasn’t as straightforward – he wouldn’t probably have ended up in Azkaban, but he could’ve had lost his apprenticeship and faced unwanted publicity if he hadn’t agreed to Anderson’s terms. Terms, that still echoed in his head, lingering there, constantly reminding him about his failures. And if he screwed up the therapy part – not to mention the quitting potions part – he could still lose his apprenticeship and face the unwanted publicity.

He also knew Hunt wouldn’t be filling the silence with words, not when she had asked him a question. He glanced over the room. Everything in her office was the same as the previous time: the walls were soothing sage green, giving a calming sense into the room, as did the natural-coloured wooden floor, and the charmed view of a forest in sunrise behind the windows.

Hugo sat on a small sofa on one end of the room, opposite to two armchairs – one of which she sat in. There was a thick, soft rug between the sofa and the chairs. All the textiles were in light grey and beige tones, and everything in the room aimed to relax. Hunt even had a fish tank against one wall, something she had seen him giving an incredulous look during the previous time.

‘Positive distraction’ she had explained him, that apparently was there to draw one’s focus in it when needed. When a mind needed a break.

Well, Hugo’s mind was in a dire need of a break.

He cleared his throat and looked at Healer Hunt. He had seen her a couple of times before, but had never actually talked to her or worked with her. Which was somewhat consoling, considering he was expected to talk about the whys and wherefores of him sitting there, on her sofa. Hunt wasn’t old – probably in her early thirties – and had hooded brown eyes, a narrow nose and small mouth. She was a tiny witch, as short as Hugo’s sister, and was probably easily overlooked by her colleagues. But even though she didn’t seem to have the need to draw attention to herself, Hugo could see that she wasn’t someone who would take anyone else’s shite – except for her clients, perhaps.

“Tired.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Hugo had barely slept during the past two and a half weeks, and he felt he was in the brink of insanity because of it.

Hunt nodded slowly. “Tell me more about tired?”

Hugo swallowed and looked away, his gaze moving back to his lap again. “Can’t sleep. Most nights at least.” He murmured. “Cold sweats. Dizziness. Nausea.”

Hunt hummed under her breath when Hugo became silent again. “Could be withdrawal symptoms. When was the last time you –”

“Two weeks and five days ago.” Hugo grunted stiffly. He didn’t want to hear the question she was inevitably required to ask every sodding time he would be seeing her.

When was the last time he had got high?

He _wished_ it had been today, because then he wouldn’t be so bloody tired now.

“Even though it is only the beginning, they say the first steps are the hardest.”

Hugo glanced at her. “Who said that?” He asked dryly.

Hunt shrugged. “I did.” She then gave him a smile. “Nevertheless, you have faced the challenge and you haven’t given up. You are choosing to fight every day, choosing to heal.”

Hugo had a slight urge to roll his eyes at her, but he didn’t.

“Do you think there is something else that keeps you awake at nights and gives you cold sweats, dizziness and nausea, other than withdrawals?” Hunt asked conversationally.

Hugo had a hard time of looking at her straight in the eye and simply talk about what went on inside his head. She made it sound so easy, like he was able to give her as simple answer as had been her question. He huffed, shook his head and looked away.

There was a short silence before he spoke. “Embarrassment. Failure.”

From his peripheral vision, Hugo could see her watching him carefully.

“Talk about embarrassment and failure.” She said kindly.

Hugo thought about the words and their meaning, how they had lurked in the dark corners of his mind, waiting for an opening.

How could he return back to work, where everyone would know, or at least, guess, why he had been put away? There would _always_ be someone looking at him the wrong way, always someone whispering and knowing how he had bollocksed everything up – how Hugo, top of his class at Hogwarts, the son of the great Hermione Granger had managed to destroy everything he had worked upon so hard, and for so many years.

And it was possible that he hadn’t just failed and buggered his own life up. If his situation came to public knowledge, it would affect his every family member. There would be headlines, no doubt, and the only one who wouldn’t probably have to deal with the looks and questions of strangers, was Hugo’s mother, whose only contacts in the wizarding world were the Weasley family. But while she wouldn’t be given long looks at work, or stopped in the middle of the street to receive opinions, condolences and whatnot, Hugo reckoned she would be the most affected.

She already was. He had seen her the other day, when she had come over at Rose’s and Scarlett’s. Hugo had been alone in their flat, like he had been every day when Rose and Scarlett were working. Hugo’s mother had been a mess: there had been dark patches under her eyes, her nails had been bitten to short stubs, and her hair had been frizzy, and for a moment, Hugo had wondered which of them was actually the one with problems. Even the thought of his mother and the unbearable worry and pity that had taken a permanent residence in her eyes, was enough to make Hugo’s stomach roil with nausea.

“We can come back to that if you like,” Hunt said quietly, watching him closely.

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“You’re still living with your sister?”

“Yeah.” Hugo grunted, glancing at her.

Hunt gave him a nod. “How is it going?”

He thought about the past two and a half weeks, which he had spent sleeping on Rose’s sofa – well, Rose’s and Scarlett’s – and was somewhat surprised his sister hadn’t already chucked him out. It wasn’t that there was a specific reason for it. In fact, Hugo had tried his best to be as agreeable as possible with the two witches, to clean their home and make dinner, to give both Rose and Scarlett the space they usually had and be outside when they were at home, or stay in Rose’s room when she was out with Nick. However, he still knew his sister, and knew that even though Rose was evidently determined to help him, she was also counting the minutes for him to return back to their mother’s place.

Hugo gave her a wry smile. “It’s going. They’re still putting up with me.”

“They?”

“My sister and her roommate.”

Hunt eyed him with a curious look. “Oh?”

Hugo shrugged. “It’s fine, really. They’ve both been cool with everything. Offering to talk and so on.”

“Good to hear. They must care about you a lot.”

When Hugo merely gave her an agreeing grunt, she continued. “What about your mother?”

Hugo clenched his jaw before he spoke with a stiff voice, “What about her?”

“I understood that you lived with her before moving to Rose’s place before the holidays?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you considered moving back?” She asked simply.

Hugo huffed and looked away, his gaze flickering to the fish tank. There were two rainbow-coloured Plimpies fluttering in the midst of many plants. “That would require communicating with my mum, on a regular basis.”

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, because he didn’t think his mother would be able to give him space. Even though she had outright told him she would.

“Have you talked with her recently?”

Hugo chewed the inside of his cheek, their conversation flickering to the forefront of his mind. She had told him that she wasn’t mad at him. She had asked him to come home, to let her help him, in any way he saw fit. She had told him that if he needed space, she would try to give it to him, even if they were living in the same house.

His mother had basically told him everything he wanted to hear, and he knew she meant every word, that she would try. But he also knew it would be very, _very_ hard for her, to see him and not try to fix him. To not give him the excruciatingly torn look of guilt and despair and urge to make everything all right.

And that was essentially why he hesitated going back. He wanted to be home, he craved to be in his own room again, in his own space. He didn’t want to be a burden to Rose and Scarlett, and lurk in the corners of their home. But he also wasn’t sure if he could face the full force of the failure and embarrassment – something that had been interfering his thoughts at nights – that would undoubtedly be there when he would return home and face the situation he was in.

* * *

Hugo was glad that his therapy was in the same floor where Olivia was situated in. It meant that as he had agreed to see her again after his meeting with Hunt, he wouldn’t have to walk around the hospital and risk running into, say, his boss, or any of his colleagues from Emergencies.

And as he knew most of the rotations in each ward, Hugo also knew he would only have to encounter the secretary in the hallway – the one who had given him a small nod before he had entered the clinic an hour earlier – before he could make his way to the ward for permanent spell damage and blood curses.

The secretary, Ms Bailey, gave him a pointed stare and lifted a brow when Hugo approached the door that lead to the ward.

Hugo cleared his throat and suppressed a grimace. “Visiting hours, right?”

Ms Bailey pursed her lips and moved her gaze back to her desk.

Hugo let out a long breath, and just as he was about to open the door to the ward, he heard her mutter, “Fifty minutes left.”

He hesitated at the door, not looking back, before he opened it and stepped inside.

And then he froze on the spot. Sanders was there, sitting in an armchair, opposite to Olivia.

“Mr Weasley,” Sanders said and stood up. “Heard you were coming, so I decided to pop in to greet you.”

He looked serious: there was no hint of his usual cheery smile, except for the laugh lines that were etched into his features. His dark brows were resting in a small frown, and his blue eyes were watching him with reserved scrutiny. He looked so different from his usual expressiveness. Only his mop of grey hair curling wildly past his ears was the same – if not somewhat tamer than Hugo remembered, and it made him think that Sanders was only starting his shift, and hadn’t yet ran a hand through it a dozen times, which he tended to do during his shifts.

Hugo took a shaky step towards the man – the man who had trusted him, and whose trust Hugo had ruthlessly violated for his own needs. He glanced at Olivia, who sat in her usual armchair, her eyes moving between them, before he fixed a firm and apologetic look at Sanders.

“Healer Sanders, I’m – I’m so sorry. I know there’s no excuse for what I did, and I –”

Healer Sanders cleared his throat and took a step closer to him, to grasp Hugo’s shoulder, interrupting him. “And I forgive you, Mr Weasley,” he said firmly, “However, I must go. I would like to discuss with you another time, if it suits you.”

Hugo blinked. “Y-Yes, of course.”

Sanders nodded at him, pulling slightly back. He turned towards Olivia. “I trust you will not try to overwhelm Mr Weasley here?”

Hugo nearly gaped at the man, while Olivia huffed and gave Sanders a wry smirk. “What on earth gave you that impression?”

Sanders shook his head in amusement and then turned towards the door. “As my usual advice goes: try not to overexert yourself, Ms Parker,” He said with a polite smile and opened the door.

Before he could disappear through the doorway, Olivia replied to him with a dry voice. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hugo still stood in the middle of the room, after watching her exchange with Sanders. She was dressed in a neat pink jumper and light blue jeans, and even her short black hair was trimmed and looked shiny. It was quite different from her usual, very casual appearance.

“What are you gawking at?” Olivia asked, a hint of reserve in her voice.

Hugo shook his head slightly. “Um. Nothing. Or, you, actually,” he said and walked towards her. “You look nice today.”

Olivia’s brows moved slightly up in surprise. “Oh. Thank you.”

He shrugged off his backpack and dropped it on the floor before sitting in an armchair, opposite to her. The one where Sanders had been sitting in a mere moment ago. He looked at her, briefly wondering what they had talked about – if they had talked about him – and noticed that there was a small amount of colour on her cheeks.

She didn’t look at all like she belonged there – in a hospital, and in a ward where she waited death to collect her. He knew she frequently put on a brave face, not only for him, but for her Healers, because she hated nothing more than to appear sick and weak. She had even confessed him that. Still, she looked healthier Hugo had seen in weeks. She looked rather pretty.

“So? Did you bring it?” Olivia asked and leaned towards the coffee table between them, unable to hide her excitement.

Hugo grinned and nodded, twisting towards his backpack to dig up the game they had discussed the last time he had seen her.

He placed the board game on the table and started to unload its contents. “So, I’ll explain a bit of the rules now, but we can go over the details as we play, okay?”

Olivia nodded, inspecting the tokens. “I should just pick one, right?”

Hugo glanced at the tokens and snatched the battleship, a small smirk on his lips. “Yeah. Um. Not this though. I’m always battleship.”

Olivia snorted and selected a race car from the pile, amusement flickering in her eyes as Hugo started to explain the rules while putting the board on place and handing money for them both.

Soon, the game was in full swing, and occasional swears and laughter echoed in the otherwise empty room.

“…It’s not fair! I was literally released from jail my last turn!” Olivia huffed, shaking her head as Hugo moved her race car into the jail corner, giving her an innocent shrug.

“Too bad,” Hugo said quietly, rolling the dice on his turn, landing on Piccadilly, which was still unowned.

Olivia narrowed her eyes at him.

“Look at that. Best to buy it away.” Hugo said with a feigned surprise, paying the two hundred and eighty pounds to the bank and retrieving his third yellow property. He glanced at his money and then gave Olivia a small smirk. “I’ll buy three houses.”

There was a huff and Olivia used her Get Out of Jail Free card, moving along the board and landing on her own property.

“Figures.” She muttered with an arched brow at the board. “So, how was it with Hunt?” She asked while Hugo rolled the dice.

Hugo glanced at her and then fixed his focus on the board, moving his battleship. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” Olivia asked airily. “So… did you tell her about your mum coming over?”

Hugo sighed and paid Olivia rent as he landed on her property. “Didn’t tell you a bunch of stuff so you could bother me with it,” he grumbled, giving her a grim look.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she said doubtfully and rolled the dice. “Excellent!” She said as she landed on Trafalgar Square and proceeded to buy the property. “But seriously,” she said and gave him a perceptive look. “Why _did_ you tell me if not to talk about it with me?”

“Temporary insanity?” Hugo muttered absently, moving his piece along the board. As he glanced at her, he saw a wide smirk stretching her lips. “Don’t say it,” Hugo said quickly, giving her a warning scowl.

Olivia sniggered. “You were practically begging for it. But all right, I won’t question you about your insanity being just temporary.”

Hugo scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told,” Olivia said, looking somewhat smug.

Hugo watched her as she moved her piece on the board and took a card after landing on the Community Chest space. He watched as the corners of her mouth curved upwards as she read, watched as her eyes danced when she let him know that she would be collecting money from other players.

And it hadn’t been temporary insanity, when Hugo had told her about his situation the last time they had met – after his first meeting with Hunt. They had been texting a little during the holidays, after Olivia had sent him a message, asking if he was all right and explaining about Sanders informing her that Hugo was taking some time off, when she had asked where he was and when he would be in shift again.

He had texted her back, to let her know that he was okay, and that he had some things to take care of before he would come back to work. She hadn’t pressed him further, and had merely told him that she’d listen if he wanted to talk. Which they had done some days later, a little over a week ago, before Hugo had had his first meeting with Hunt.

During their phone call, as if sensing that he had been desperate for distraction, she had asked him about his previous Christmas holidays, what had been his favourite thing to do, and if he had ever spent any at Hogwarts. He hadn’t. But he had told her about what he and his sister usually did whenever they had spent the holidays at their mother’s place – muggle board games, including Monopoly. Naturally, she had been interested to hear more about them, and had asked if they could play one some time, if he had the time.

As it turned out, Hugo had nothing _but_ time. So, he had asked Rose to go to their mother’s place to retrieve some board games, vaguely explaining that perhaps they could play some of them during the New Year’s Eve party. Rose had been agreeable, excited even, and unknowing that his request had nothing to do with her party.

So, after having his awkward first meeting with Hunt, in which she had done most of the talking, but had still managed to draw out some facts of him during the hour, Hugo had left her office feeling raw and vulnerable. He had made his way to see Olivia, as promised, and had ended up telling her more than he probably would’ve in any other day.

Olivia had listened carefully, had smiled at him encouragingly, and hadn’t looked at him with pity and with worry like everyone else in Hugo’s life who had even a vague idea what he was going through. Olivia had told him that she was glad that he had trusted her, and that he knew where to find her if he ever wanted to talk more about the subject. Hugo had then told her that he could take one of the board games with him next time he was seeing Hunt and coming to the hospital, and if she was up for it, they could play after his meeting. A strange smile had flickered on her lips, before she had eyed him with a serious look that meant business. “It’s a date,” she had said to him. So easily, voice airy and like it didn’t mean anything, like the word wasn’t different from any other word.

Perhaps it hadn’t been, but Hugo had still wondered. He was still wondering, as he watched her grin at him, her eyes dancing with mirth, her palm extended as she waited for him to pay her.

* * *

“Hey!” Hugo called from the hallway, kicking his shoes off.

Two nearly identical “Heys” and a low grunt came from the sitting room, followed by Rose’s concerned face, which appeared from behind the corner.

“I thought you’d come back earlier? After the meeting.” She said and gave him a once over, her gaze searching for something. “You all right?”

Hugo shrugged. “Sure,” he said and walked past her towards the kitchen, waving at Scarlett and Nick as he went. Scarlett smiled at him while Nick gave him a curt nod. They were sitting on other ends of the sofa – transfigured to fit them all – and watching something from the telly.

Rose followed him to the counter in the kitchen, watching intently as Hugo gulped down a tall glass of water.

“What?” He asked, putting his glass on the table, feeling bothered by her sharp gaze.

Rose frowned at him. “Did something happen? Where were you?”

It was already early evening, and he had left Rose’s and Scarlett’s place before noon. He figured that Rose’s confusion wasn’t uncalled for, as he had told her that he’d come back after the meeting with Hunt, leaving out the small detail of him visiting Olivia – not to mention him visiting Albus, which he hadn’t really known before he had been at the hospital, as Albus had sent him a text then and asked if he’d want to come by.

Hugo had left the hospital after the secretary – Bailey – had appeared twice on the doorway, reminding them that visiting hours had ended an hour before. They had played until the game had ended, taking nearly two hours, with him winning and Olivia losing – sorely, even, as she had blamed him for cheating, making up rules and tricking a sickly, dying girl. He had merely shaken his head in amusement, and forced himself to be unbothered by the way she was joking about her condition.

After the hospital, Hugo had gone to Albus’s place. It was Scorpius’s birthday, and there even had been cake, prepared by Albus’s roommate’s girlfriend. The five of them – Albus, Scorpius, Hugo, Emma and Amanda – had sat in the kitchen and chatted for a long while, until Scorpius, Emma and Amanda had left to their homes, reminding both Hugo and Albus about the next Saturday pub crawl in order to celebrate Scorpius properly.

Hugo rarely spent time with Scorpius, Emma and Amanda – it was usually just Hugo and Albus – but he knew the rest of them were somewhat close, or knew each other well, as they had all been in Slytherin during the same year. He had wondered briefly, whether the reason for Albus asking him there was because of what had happened during New Year’s Eve – when Albus had shagged one of Rose’s closest friends – or because of Hugo being a pitiful junkie, and Albus actually remembered every word Hugo had said during the party about himself.

In the end, he reckoned it had been a bit of both.

After the others had left, Albus had asked Hugo what he had heard. He hadn’t explained his question further, but they both knew there had been no need for it. Hugo knew exactly what Albus was inquiring about, and Hugo had merely given him a pointed look and told him that he had heard enough, and that Albus was a fool if he thought Rose wouldn’t find out – even if Hugo would keep his mouth shut.

Albus hadn’t really wanted to talk more about the night, at least, not about what had happened with Scarlett. No, he was more curious to hear about how Hugo was doing, and if there was anything he could do to help. Naturally, Hugo had told him that everything was being handled. He hadn’t been surprised to see the look of doubt on his cousin’s face.

“Was at Al’s. He asked me to come over and hang out when I was at the hospital,” he said, knowing without looking, that both Scarlett and Nick were listening to their conversation.

“Oh.” Rose said and shrugged. “Well, in that case, have you eaten? We were thinking between pizza and Italian… right?” She said and aimed the last word to Scarlett and Nick, who both murmured their agreements.

“Nah, I’m all right,” Hugo said as Rose returned to the sitting room. “Had five pieces of cake. Think I can crash in your room for a bit, Scar?”

While Scarlett let out an agreeing sound and waved her hand, her gaze at the telly, Rose stilled and looked back at him.

“W-What day is it?” She asked quietly, confusion in her eyes.

Hugo gave her a meaningful look. It was Scorpius’s birthday, and Rose was barely friends with the bloke, and was in fact dating someone else entirely. Still, Hugo could see it as clear as day. Rose was still hung up on Scorpius, and was probably thinking if she should contact him on his birthday.

And what was even more apparent, was the observant look Nick was eyeing her with when she wasn’t looking.


	23. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you and your thoughts about the story! :)  
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 23: James**

**Sunday, 18 January 2026**

“Hey, Mum.” James greeted as he stepped inside the house, shrugging off his coat and dropping it on a nearby chair. The hallway – and the rest of the house it seemed, as James glanced around him – was stripped of the festive decorations that had adorned each room during the holidays and earlier that week.

As James walked further into the house, he heard his mother swearing silently in the small sitting room next to the drawing room. Shaking his head with amusement, James stepped to the doorway and looked inside. She was sitting on the floor cross-legged, her broom between her hands and a frown on her face.

“Didn’t know the ‘no-brooms-inside-the-house’ rule was cancelled out,” he said with a wry smile, watching as his mother proceeded to trim some of the loose twigs of her broom. He remembered quite vividly the moment the rule had been established. He also remembered how his parents had yelled their throats raw after James and his brother had had a little broom race inside the house only minutes before.

 _Good times,_ James thought wistfully.

His mother huffed, keeping her gaze on the broom. “Not _quite_ what the rule was made for,” she murmured, setting the clippers down and lifting the broom higher for inspection. She gave it a satisfied nod and then looked at James. A smile spread on her lips. “Hello, darling. How are you?”

It was getting easier and easier, for James to be in her presence. They had spent a lot of time by themselves during the holidays, practicing daily on the backyard, testing out tactics and sharpening his movements, and after the season started in the beginning of January, James had come to see her – and his father – whenever he had time off, sometimes several times a week.

The Magpies had now practiced for two weeks after their holidays, and after one more week, they would play their first game after the winter break. And James would be in the game, playing Chaser. His thoughts went to the meeting with Johnson the previous Friday, when their manager had called James into his office before practice.

_“Coach?” James asked and closed the door behind him, feeling jittery with nerves._

_Johnson sat behind his desk and stared at him for a long while, his fingers playing with the handle of his teacup, his expression muted. James swallowed hard and forced himself to stand tall and stay unaffected. He was acutely aware that this, the meeting right there and then, was the one where his future would be decided – was where Johnson would make the decision that would affect James’s future as a professional player._

_Slowly, a wide grin stretched over Johnson’s face. “Good work, Potter.” He said, nodding at James, giving him a pleased look._

_And if James hadn’t been leaning against the door he had closed behind him only moments before, he would’ve sagged to the floor from relief. His throat felt raw, and he managed a stiff nod and a tight smile. “Thank you, Coach.”_

_Johnson scratched his chin, before fixing him a meaningful look. “Obviously you’ve earned your place,” he said seriously. “I hope you’ll keep up the good work.”_

_“I will.” James said quickly, and it was the truth._

_He had had time to think over it, to think about his future without Quidditch. And there hadn’t been one. There had been nothing without Quidditch._

_Naturally, he knew that he couldn’t play forever, but he had decided that it would have to be a lot worse than his own stupidity to make him let go of what he loved._

_“Okay, now, move your sodding arse back to practice and take lead on Chaser drills. You have a new reserve to train,” Johnson said gruffly, and turned his focus on the papers on his desk. His voice was softened somewhat by the small, satisfied smile on his lips._

_James suppressed a grin only until he exited Johnson’s office and closed the door behind him. Finally – fucking finally – the light of a return to normal life was beginning to shine._

The practice that day had gone well – James didn’t think they even had had any bad practices since coming back from the holidays – and somehow, he, Chuck and Zara had quickly found their offensive magic. It seemed like all the tactics they practiced went well and without much of an effort, at times as brilliantly as they had gone when Oliver had still been part of their team and they had all been thriving instead of struggling.

Of course, it made sense: Zara had been in reserve for two years, had practiced with them and knew exactly how James and Chuck moved on their brooms. It was almost easy for her to take the step to be one of the regulars, and leave her place for Greg, their new reserve: a young bloke who hadn’t played for a professional team before as he had graduated from Hogwarts only six months earlier, and who did seem to get the hang of their ways early on.

James had slowly started to feel real again, to feel confident again. His game was better than it had been in a long time, he got along with Zara – he always had – and Chuck, who seemed to have made peace with James after James had pulled him aside first thing in the morning of their first practice after the holidays, and had apologised Chuck for being a knobhead.

And James _had_ been trying. Really trying. He had been training nonstop during the holidays, and after the break had ended, he had pushed hard in their practices. He had been determined to focus on Quidditch and his game, forcing everything else in a dark corner of his mind. James hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol or any other substance since the start of the holidays, because he knew that drinking – and getting high – was something that needed to stop. Something he was aware that had been a problem between seasons and breaks, and sometimes even during seasons. He had also been civil with his parents, friendly even, and even if he hadn’t actively tried to patch things up with his father, things between them were still slowly getting better.

“I’m good.” James said simply, and for the first time in a long while, the words didn’t come out as a lie.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, and only then did he realise that there was a smile on his lips.

“What’re you – oh!” She suddenly said, moving to stand up quickly, discarding her broom on the floor. “You’ve talked with Johnson?” She asked hurriedly, taking quick steps towards him.

James nodded, feeling pleased of himself as his mother grinned at him enthusiastically. “Yeah. It’s good. I’m staying as a regular.”

“Oh, James!” His mother gasped and somewhat gracelessly flung herself on his neck. “I’m so, _so,_ proud of you!”

Her words were somewhat muffled against his shoulder, and James patted her on her back awkwardly, feeling relieved and grateful, knowing that she had played a part in his success by helping him train, giving him criticism of his game, and urging him to go further and be better.

“We’ll have to celebrate!” She said when she pulled back, squeezing his arms while gazing up at him in delight. “We could have dinner somewhere? Oh – there’s the new place at Diagon? Or, we could stay in and I could whip something up? Whatever you want.”

James shrugged. “Let’s stay home, yeah? Early practice tomorrow,” he said stiffly, instead of telling her how he really wasn’t up for being in a crowd that consisted of wizarding folk, where everyone would be gawking at them. Besides, he still wasn’t sure how his father felt about being close to so many people, even if he had suffered the Weasley get-together on Christmas Eve like a champion. And while it was rather amusing, James was also worried for him, as his father’s plans to return back to work would mean just that. Crowds, communicating with a lot of people, most of whom knew exactly who he was, and what had happened to him and his family four months ago.

He glanced behind him. “Where’s Dad?”

If his mother’s excitement had been sudden, the sourness on her expression was even faster. “He’s out. Don’t know when he’ll come back.”

James lifted his brows up in surprise. “He’s not working yet, is he?”

His father’s decision – an idiotic one, James reckoned, even though he knew that his father was entitled to make his own, senseless career choices – had been something that wasn’t really discussed in James’s parents’ home. At least, not in front of James’s mother. After her being unnaturally supportive during Christmas dinner about James’s father’s reveal – compared to James and his siblings – things had slowly and surely cooled down between them, and James’s mother had finally spoken her true opinions about the whole situation, the night before Lily was heading back to Hogwarts. Her words had been uttered behind closed doors, but only a deaf person could’ve disregarded them and lived happily his life being none the wiser. So, James, Albus and Lily had heard exactly how irrational and reckless their mother thought her husband’s plans were, before they had all sat down to one of the most uncomfortable dinners they had had together.

And James himself had thought about it a lot, and had held a number of strong opinions about the fact. Because, his father had to be mad to want to go back. To put such an obvious target on his back. But then, later that same night, while James’s brother and mother had been chatting in the kitchen, James had overheard his father in his study, talking with James’s sister. He had heard the slight tremble in Lily’s voice – something he wasn’t sure his sister was even capable of, since she was always spitting witty and snappy comebacks, making sure no one ever got the chance to push her around – as she asked if he was going to be all right. Their father had explained to her that it was something he _had_ to do. That he _had_ to go back. That he wanted to live again, and he couldn’t do it any other way.

After hearing them, James had decided not to argue with his father about his decision, even though he disagreed with it. Even if his father had been his old balanced self – which he definitely wasn’t yet – James still wouldn’t have wanted for him to go back. Because at the end of the day, there were still people like Jacob Wilson and other bastards running wild in the wizarding world, causing pain and suffering to others.

James had, however, inquired from his father some days after Lily’s return to Hogwarts, if his father was even fit to field work anymore, after being tied to his desk for so many years and ditching the word ‘exercise’ from his vocabulary somewhere along the way.

The next time James had seen his father, the man had started running and lifting weights.

His mother heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Not until the first of February.”

James nodded, watching her closely as she gnawed her lower lip and backed into the room, before picking up her broom. He wondered how bad it actually was between them. James reckoned that it almost seemed like they avoided each other, and that had to be some sort of accomplishment, as his father rarely left home.

“Is everything all right? With you and – um – Dad?”

There was a flicker of something – anguish and bewilderment, perhaps – on his mother’s eyes as she looked at him. Then, she looked away and gave a little shake of her head, as if clearing her thoughts.

“We’re – fine,” she said with a strained smile and placed the broom to lean against the wall next to the doorway. “Don’t worry about us, James,” She said with a softer voice and nudged her head over James’s shoulder. “So? A Sunday roast then?”

James gave her an agreeing grunt, and she walked past him, making her way towards the kitchen.

“Well?” She asked over her shoulder. “It’s not gonna prepare it itself.”

James huffed but followed her towards the kitchen, wondering if he ought to have chosen Diagon Alley after all.

Thirty minutes later, the dinner was on its way, and James _knew_ there was something his mother wanted to talk to him about, or ask him. She kept glancing at his direction until she simply turned to lean against the counter and stare him down.

“What?” James asked, suppressing the urge to clench his jaw.

“Have you talked to Wright?” She asked curiously, her observant eyes moving over his face, evidently taking note of the way he visibly flinched at the mention of his old teammate.

Oliver.

“I – uh. Yeah. It’s fine,” James grunted, looking down at his feet.

“You owled him?” She asked, her voice careful.

He had, hadn’t he? But the thing was, that Oliver hadn’t replied to him. Not even though James had spent several hours trying to form _some_ kind of note to him. A note that told Oliver that James would very much like to meet with him and talk to him. A note that didn’t accuse him of what had happened the last time they had seen each other, right before Oliver had said his goodbyes.

The kiss. The kiss had happened.

James actively tried not to think about it, because he didn’t know _what_ to think of it. He had become rather good at it – shoving the occurrence into the back of his mind, along with all the other unpleasant, frightening and confusing thoughts. He had sent the letter, and then buried the topic of Oliver Wright to somewhere deep, knowing he couldn’t afford to focus on anything else but Quidditch, as it was his career that was at stake.

Still, his mother now bringing it up – bringing him up – was enough to drag all the thoughts back to the surface, making him physically react and scold himself for letting her catch him off guard.

* * *

They ate together, avoiding certain topics. James’s mother didn’t ask more about Oliver, and James didn’t talk about his father. However, it seemed that Quidditch was enough for them both, and James nearly whooped in joy after realising how talking about the sport and the league didn’t make him want to chunder in anxiety anymore.

After dinner, they stayed in the kitchen and had tea while chatting enthusiastically about the league scoreboard, about Magpies leading it, and Harpies following closely on the second position. The two teams had both won twelve of the fourteen games each team played during the first half of the season. There were still twelve games left for each team before the end of the season, and then James would start practicing with the national team in the beginning of May.

“How do you feel about it?”

James lifted his gaze from his teacup. She was watching him closely, trying to see right through him.

“The league?”

His mother chewed the inside of her cheek, curling her hands around her cup as her gaze swept over the table. “No. Well, yes, the league. But I also mean the whole year. The league and the World Cup – it’s a lot,” she said with a small grimace, looking back at him. “It’s a lot of pressure, a lot to take.”

James pressed his teeth together. Yes, it was a lot. It was a fucking lot, actually, and that was solely the reason he usually didn’t allow himself to even think about it. It was why he hated the fact that every bloody one around him wanted to discuss the Quidditch World Cup and how brilliant it was that James was selected to play for the team.

He didn’t want to talk about the World Cup, because then all he could think was that he could easily bugger it up. He had a season to finish in the league, and depending on how badly it went, it could affect his contract playing Chaser for the English team in the World Cup.

It was easier, not to let his mind go over and over all the possibilities that could happen, or all the shit he could do to make a hash of things.

So, he didn’t think about it. He didn’t talk about it.

“It’s fine.” He grumbled, looking out of the window, into the darkness. The snow had melt away earlier that week and wasn’t there to brighten the grounds anymore.

He couldn’t wait for the spring to arrive. It would be so much better to fly in the warm spring and summer air, rather than under a pouring, windy sky that threatened to freeze his bollocks off.

“You can talk about it, James. I understand, you know? I played Quidditch too, if you remember?”

James felt a pinch of irritation at her tone. Clearly, she _didn’t_ understand, as he certainly didn’t want to discuss the matter. He gave her a mild scowl. “Oh yeah?” He asked, his voice stiff. “How many times you played in the World Cup?”

She looked hurt for a second, and then her expression cleared somewhat.

James winced. “Sorry, Mum. Didn’t mean it like that.” James murmured, moving his gaze to the table, to stare at her hands.

“No, it’s all right, James,” She said resignedly. “And you’re right. I wouldn’t know _exactly_ how hard it is, seeing how I never got to play in a World Cup,” she said through pursed lips, a hint of bitterness in her tone. “Still, I’m guessing it _is_ hard, and I just want to be there for you. To support you.”

James looked at her, taking note of the weariness in her brown eyes and the few wrinkles around them – something he hadn’t really noticed before, even though knowing it was there. She didn’t look old, never had, on James’s opinion, but looking at her now made him think of everything she had seen and gone through already – all the things that would still unfold to him in his future.

He felt embarrassed by his outburst, knowing how grateful he was to have her there, in his life. Of course, she had always been there, one way or another. Even when James was pushing her away, not interested to see her or talk to her, or when he had buggered things up and ended up in the papers – she had still been there, attending his every game, asking him to come over, forcing herself over his doorstep when he was absent.

She cleared her throat, evidently somewhat confused by his scrutiny. “So, Arrows next week, huh?”

James blinked and gave her an agreeing hum. He downed the rest of his tea and placed the cup back on the table. “Yeah, they’re going down.”

His mother arched a doubtful brow. “Not that I don’t think they wouldn’t, now that you’ve obviously found you mojo again –”

James snorted. “ _Mojo?_ ”

“Shut up. You know what I mean. Just – don’t be too arrogant.”

He gave her a feigned look of surprise. “Me? I’m never arrogant.”

She burst in laughter. It wasn’t exactly something that had slipped past him, that he was sometimes _a bit_ arrogant, and _a bit_ of an arsehole. But usually, he was those things only when the situation demanded it. James knew that if he hadn’t shielded himself in any way, he would be a sodding mess. After all, nearly everyone in the wizarding world – at least, those who could read – knew who he was, and even what he did and with whom for the most of the time. He didn’t want to give them more pieces of him, and if being a prat at times would prevent it, he would be more than okay with it.

* * *

Later that night, when James apparated into his hallway, he thought about the upcoming Arrows game.

He felt good about it, even though the previous time they had played against Arrows they had lost. Still, James was determined to kick their arses this time and prove himself to the team and their manager. Prove himself to everyone else in the wizarding world possibly doubting his game.

As he hung his coat on the coat rack, he thought about the game he actually felt nervous about – the one taking place in a bit over a month. The one, in which the Magpies would face the Wimbourne Wasps. And James would face Oliver.

It had been so long since James had last time played against Oliver, that he couldn’t even pull up the memories of it happening for a closer inspection. But it had happened, more than once during the few years James had played for Magpies before Oliver had joined their team for a year and a half long loan. If James didn’t remember playing against Oliver, he certainly remembered the day they had talked with each other for the first time.

It had been after the summer he had bought his flat. After he had been drunk or higher than the moon for most part of the summer – summer, during which he had also travelled to France with Nick and some of their friends and had come back home without any distinct memory of the trip. James had only seen distasteful evidence in some of the rags Johnson had flung over his face, when he had found out and stormed to James’s place. Johnson had nearly strangled James, screaming at him to keep his shit behind closed doors and not embarrass the team and the whole bloody league with his behaviour.

Later on, James had figured that the only reason Johnson hadn’t cut him loose right then and there was the fact that James had been one of the best Chasers in the league.

So, James had started his season feeling moody, feeling foolish and chastised. And Oliver had been there, standing tall and broad – not unlike James – and had given everyone a charming grin. Later that day, as they had divided into separate groups to practice their drills in separate areas, Oliver had slowed his footsteps enough to walk alongside James, several footsteps behind Chuck, Zara and Dylan. Then, without much of a preamble, he had proceeded to ask if James was hungover, or if there was an actual reason for him to have his knickers in a twist. Naturally, James had glared at the bloke, a couple of choice words popping into his mind, but before he had had the chance to say anything, he had seen the widening grin on Oliver’s lips, and realised the bloke had been merely pulling his leg.

They had become good friends after that.

A sound coming from his sitting room made him still in the hallway, made his heart jump in his throat.

Hastily, James pulled his wand from his back pocket and crept forwards.

“Hello, brother.”

Albus was there, sitting nonchalantly on his bloody sofa, sipping _tea,_ of all things, and looked too comfortable to be there, on James’s opinion.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in here?” He asked, stopping in the middle of the room and staring down at his brother.

Albus put his cup on the table and cringed. “Yeah. Uh. Emma’s grandparents came to visit. Unexpectedly,” he said, planting his elbows against his knees. “Don't really wanna be there while they are.”

James huffed and shook his head in exasperation as he turned away from his brother and made his way towards the kitchen, while murmuring, “No shit.”

Albus appeared to the kitchen door when James had nearly finished his evening snack – cereal with milk.

He leant against the frame and watched James for a quiet moment, a deep frown between his brows. “There’s also something I kinda – uh – need to chat about. With someone.” Albus said, looking stiff.

James’s brows rose up in curiosity as he wondered, what was the topic that could make his brother look so… uncomfortable. “Yes?” James grunted while he continued eating, while wondering, why Albus hadn’t gone to see Scorpius, or Hugo, or even Rose.

“I did something.” Albus murmured before biting the corner of his mouth, not looking at James anymore.

James was more curious by the minute. There was a short silence. “Well?” James prompted, dropping his spoon in the bowl and giving his brother his full attention. “Spit it out.”

Albus clenched his jaw. “So. You remember Scarlett?” He asked carefully and squinted slightly at James.

James stared at his brother for a long moment. Of course he remembered her. Rose’s flatmate and friend. He also remembered Rose, screeching her head off after James had messed around with said friend some months before. James also remembered vividly how _very_ uncomfortable the apology he had to make had been, and how he had hoped he would never have to look at the witch in the eyes again. He remembered.

But as Albus became even more fidgety than he had been, more… panicked, if possible, James realised what his brother was so desperately trying to get out.

And then James burst in laughter.

“…No fucking way.” James voiced through a stream of chuckles, shaking his head while watching his brother with a mixed incredulity and amusement. “You shagged her, didn’t you?”

Albus’s eyes closed quickly, in what seemed like mild regret, and that alone was enough for James as a confirmation.

“It wasn’t like I planned it,” Albus said firmly and moved closer to the table, looking frustrated. “We were drunk. It was New Year’s, and everyone was passed out – and will you stop the fucking sniggering?”

James schooled his expression, suppressing a snort. “How did Rosie take it?” He asked sweetly, leaning back in his chair and watching his brother squirm in discomfort – something James secretly enjoyed seeing.

“Fuck you,” Albus said wearily, slumping down to sit on a chair opposite to James, before burying his face behind his hands. “She’ll kill me when she finds out.”

They sat in silence for a while.

James watched his brother’s miserable appearance and sucked his teeth as he thought about the matter. “She might not be –”

Albus lifted his head up and scowled at James. “We _are_ talking about the same Rosie Weasley, right?” He asked sharply. “The one who nearly hang you by the balls with piano wire when you _snogged_ her flatmate?”

James grimaced.

“That’s what I thought,” Albus gritted out.

James crossed his arms over his chest. “Then – I don’t see any reason to tell her. Do you?”

Albus trailed a hand through his hair and looked away, chewing his lower lip. An odd, suspicious thought came to James then, as he watched his brother and the unsure look in his expression.

“Unless… You’re not – seeing her again?”

Albus gave James a stubborn look. “I just might.”

James stared at his brother in disbelief and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What is?” Albus asked mutedly, looking back at James with reserve in his eyes.

James gave his brother a meaningful, amused look. “That the witch you _actually_ want to see again after a boozy shag, is Rose’s best friend.”

Albus narrowed his eyes at James, but said nothing.

James sighed and stood up. He flicked his wand to clean the dishes and placed them on the counter, before chugging down two glasses of water. He looked at Albus and lifted his brows in doubt. “You’re not actually asking for an advice, are you?”

Albus huffed, looking away as his jaw worked. “Well? You have any?” He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and giving James a defiant look.

James snorted. “Not ones you’re not already aware.” He nudged his chin towards the sitting room and walked away. His brother followed him in silence.

There was a large gym bag near the end of the sofa, something James hadn’t noticed earlier, being too surprised by his brother’s impromptu visit.

“What’s that?” James asked slowly, arching a brow at it, before turning back to look at his brother.

Albus grimaced. “Oh. Yeah. Mind if I stay for a couple of weeks?”


	24. Hermione

**Chapter 24: Hermione**

**Tuesday, 27 January 2026**

There was a knock against the open door of her office, where Hermione was gathering her belongings after what had felt like the longest of days. She glanced up. It was Professor Enid Collins, one of her colleagues in the department. One of her friends.

Enid was a charismatic woman in her late fifties, with tawny, curly hair and intelligent, expressive eyes. She was quick and clever, and she seemed to grasp Hermione’s line of thinking faster and better than anyone else in their department. It was no wonder Hermione had got along with her so well. Enid was also the only muggle, in addition to Bruce, who knew some bits and pieces about Hermione’s personal life.

“You’re leaving?” Enid asked, her lifted brows disappearing behind her fringe.

Hermione knew the gesture wasn’t meant to be rude, as it was already close to five in the afternoon – a time when most of their colleagues packed their things and left home – but it wasn’t Hermione’s usual behaviour to leave during decent hours, unless she was continuing her work at home or even coming back later that night. At least, not until two weeks ago.

Hermione gave her a strained smile and glanced at her desk, fighting the urge grab everything with her and continue working later that night. “Yes. I will finish these tomorrow,” She said, nodding at the stack of articles that waited for her to go them through.

Since Hugo had moved back home, Hermione had been desperate to be there as much as possible, in case he needed her – she wasn’t even sure for what, as her son had always been perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Until now.

And simply being there, at home, wasn’t enough. She couldn’t be there for him and work from home at the same time. She had to really _be_ there. And being there for him, meant that she had to cut her hours at the office to the minimum, which probably matched to the hours everyone else did. It turned out to be quite the struggle for her, as it wasn’t easy for her to leave her work behind and walk away, because Hermione had always done more than enough. She had always aimed to be exceptional and not average.

She gave Enid a studious look, her eyes flickering to the folder between her hands. “Did you have something for me?”

The woman shook her head. “No, no. It can wait for tomorrow. Go home, Hermione,” she finished with a soft smile.

Be with your son, she meant. Hermione knew Enid had a vague idea what was going on, as Hermione had spoken with her and told her a bit about the situation with her son. Enid had been quite understanding, having raised two boys of her own.

Hermione nodded. “All right.”

She took her bag and after making sure all the articles and her laptop were neatly placed on her desk, she turned off her reading light and moved towards Enid, who was still hovering in the doorway.

“Have you talked to him?” Enid asked quietly, her thick brows in a worried furrow.

Hermione locked the door to her office, thinking that the _him_ in Enid’s inquiry probably didn’t mean her son. It meant Bruce.

She swallowed a sigh. “No. Why?” She asked from Enid, as they both started to walk towards the exit.

“I saw him briefly during lunch. He asked about you. Asked how you were…?” Enid said airily, keeping her gaze trained forward.

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t talked to Bruce in almost a month, and somehow, she hadn’t even had a glimpse of him afterwards – not that they worked close to one another or anything. Still, she thought he was keeping his distance, just like he promised.

After the holidays – after the big reveal Hugo had slammed on the table and after fighting about it with her ex – Hermione had made up her mind. She couldn’t keep Bruce around when she was supposed to support her son. She couldn’t keep seeing Bruce when it was possible that she would – or someone in her family would – reveal anything from the magical world to him. Perhaps, if they were all muggles, it could’ve worked – she could’ve made it work – but as they weren’t, it was just too stressful to try to prevent anything from the magical world seeping into Bruce’s ears, while dodging her ex’s accusations about her putting a man and romance before the wellbeing of their son.

Of course, Hermione was quite aware of the fact that Ronald Weasley could be petty and childish and outright hurtful when he wanted, but she also knew that somewhere under his hurtful accusations, there was a point. Hermione _wanted_ to help Hugo, and she _wanted_ to be there for him. And she didn’t want to keep lying to Bruce.

Bruce had been disappointed, but understanding. He had told her that if she felt that she had to take a pause in their relationship, that if she couldn’t be with him or see him while she helped her son, he would understand and keep his distance. And that when things with Hugo would be better, he would be there, if she still wanted him to be there.

At first, she had been sad to let him go, sad to not have someone be there for her, caring for her, loving her. Then, she had slowly felt relief and hope, knowing that Bruce would be there for her, and thinking that perhaps their time came later. That this situation wouldn’t last forever.

But the more she thought about it, the more certain she became of the fact that their relationship wouldn’t work – it would never be a true relationship with Bruce, if she continued lying to him. Hermione knew that she couldn’t cut her ties to the magical world completely, as long as her children were part of it. Still, she missed him every day. She missed his presence and she missed his touch. Telling Bruce the truth was something she would have to consider before se would be able to continue seeing him and sharing a life with him.

Hermione cleared her throat and glanced at Enid, not really knowing what to say back to her. “Um. If you see him, tell him that everything is all right.” She said with a strained smile, her hand on the exit door.

Enid nodded, watching her with an understanding look while she was already taking back a few steps. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

Hermione took the bus to Turnham Green Station and then the District line to Richmond. An hour later, she was walking in her neighbourhood towards her house. She wondered, if Hugo was still back from his therapy session, which took place every Tuesday. She wondered, if he would stay there afterwards and try to see her – Olivia.

Hermione only knew bits about the girl, bits that Hugo had been willing to share with her. That Olivia was near Hugo’s age, home-schooled, without family and friends. A girl who was witty and strong, who hated hospitals and hated being sick.

A girl who didn’t want others to see her fragile or her resolve cracking, who didn’t want others to be reminded of her sickness – at least that was what Hermione had thought after the previous Tuesday, when the girl had refused to meet Hugo without any explanation. Of course, Hugo had found an explanation, something Hermione had raised her brows at but said nothing, as her son had told her later that night that he had cornered one of the Healers and demanded to know what exactly was going on with Olivia.

After that, Hermione had been worried. She had been worried about her son for quite some time, had been consumed by concern regarding his addiction and his obsession for his job. But now, she was worried about how her son would take it when the inevitable happened. When Olivia’s illness would take over.

She didn’t know the details of Hugo’s and Olivia’s relationship, whether they were friends or more, but she knew that the girl was important to him. She knew that Olivia’s inevitable death would affect him. And knowing that, but not knowing how badly, made Hermione’s chest heavy with anxiousness.

With those thoughts still circling in her mind, Hermione opened the door and stepped into the dark hallway. She switched the light on and took off her coat and boots.

“Hugo? …I’m home!”

There was no answer. The rest of the house was dark and silent. Hermione glanced at her watch – it was almost six in the afternoon. The visiting hours would end soon, and then Hugo would come home, _if_ he came straight from the hospital. It wasn’t like he kept her informed about his comings and goings every day. He tried, some days. And on those days, Hermione appreciated the effort, as it saved quite a lot of nail biting and anxious thoughts on her side.

She sighed and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on, wondering what kind of evening was she up against. Would she spend it in the sitting room, frequently glancing at the clock, biting the inside of her cheek while wringing her fingers and actively stopping herself from calling or texting him?

As she prepared her tea and then sat down at the table with a steaming cup, she thought about Hugo and how there was still a lot of unspoken topics – things that he kept in the dark. There was tension in him and between them. There were days when Hugo seemed to be blowing up from the smallest of things, causing Hermione to walk on eggshells around the house. There were nights when she could hear him pacing in the house, going over cabinets and cupboards. There was nothing to be found, of course. She had thrown every potion bottle and ingredient away before he had agreed to move back home, two and a half weeks ago.

Then there were days when he seemed brighter and calmer than he had been in a long time, days when he made jokes and even laughed at some of hers. There were days he talked to her, when he opened up about some of the thoughts going on inside his head. And there were nights when he actually slept.

In addition to their Sunday meals, Rose had started to come by more often, and even though her visits usually took place when Hermione was still at work or on her way back home from work, and the purpose was to see Hugo, Hermione still caught glimpses of her daughter during the week, before she would run off to meet Nick or Scarlett or some other friend.

Hermione was glad that Rose’s life seemed to go forward smoothly, and that her daughter actually seemed happy to live it. She knew that some of Rose’s contentment was because she had Scarlett and Nick in her life, but she also knew Rose herself had matured and taken responsibility of her own happiness and future.

Her musings were interrupted by a quiet sound of an incoming message into her phone. She put her cup on the table and walked hastily towards the hallway where she had left her bag and her phone, hoping to receive a message from Hugo, who would notify her about his schedule.

It was Harry.

**_Hey! Are you home? Could I pop by?_ **

Hermione swallowed the disappointment and let herself feel pleased to hear from her friend. A friend, whom she had seen quite a lot during the past weeks. A lot more than his wife.

As Hermione typed a quick ‘by all means’ as a reply, she thought about Ginny, and wondered if everything was all right with her.

Hermione hadn’t seen Ginny since the holidays, and what information she had managed to extract from her during their short calls or from Harry, whenever Hermione met him, made her think that things between Harry and Ginny had taken a bad turn. She wondered, why – if it was because of Harry’s decision of returning back to work, or if there was something else?

Shortly after the holidays, Ginny had reached out to Hermione to tell her that she had to stop taking Pilates classes, explaining that she was expected to take over most of the managing duties of the Holyhead Harpies during the spring season. She hadn’t really contacted Hermione much afterwards, and whenever they had made the occasional call – which only happened when Ginny was at home where her phone would actually work – she had been too tired to have a good conversation, or seemed like her mind had been elsewhere. What Hermione had heard from Harry, was that Ginny was working long days, and that Harry had barely seen her in the evenings, before she had gone to bed early to get a decent amount of sleep before waking up early the next day.

She remembered how hopeful Ginny had been before the holidays, and how Harry had finally started to open up to both Ginny and Hermione after beginning to see a Mind Healer. Things _had_ been good for a while between Ginny and Harry. Apparently, they were not anymore.

Harry never talked to Hermione about the glitches in his marriage whenever they met, but she knew him enough to read between the lines. Instead, they talked about work, about their children and what it was like being a parent. They talked about their Hogwarts years and the war. Sometimes, they talked about the Dursleys and Harry’s abusive childhood, whenever Harry had been in contact with his cousin Dudley. Despite everything, he had forgiven his aunt and uncle. Occasionally, they talked about Dumbledore, about Sirius, and about Harry’s parents. Harry wasn’t bitter anymore that all of them had left him, like he had been for so many years. He had accepted their deaths and had mourned them, and for the first time in many years, he finally talked about them. He had told her that he missed them.

They had seen each other a lot after Harry had started to see the Mind Healer. They usually chatted while having tea and biscuits, or went for a jog around the nearby parks. Once Hermione had visited Harry in Winkfield, and had been both disappointed and relieved by Ginny’s absence. She missed her friend, but at the same time, knowing the couple had some problems between them, Hermione didn’t want to appear that she had taken any sides.

A faint ‘crack’ echoed in the house, and Hermione blinked, realising that she had been standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at her phone while thinking about her friends.

“ _Mione?_ ” Harry called from the sitting room.

Hermione put her phone on the small side table and walked towards the sound, stopping at the doorway. “Hello, Harry,” she said with a fond smile.

Harry gave her a lopsided grin and trailed a hand through his messy hair. “Hope I didn’t come by in a bad moment?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I just came home from work. Hugo is not here yet, and, well, I think he might be soon,” she said cautiously. “Tea?” She asked, nodding her head towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure. And, uh, just outright tell me when to get out, yeah?” Harry said as they walked to the kitchen.

Hermione huffed in amusement. “Trust me, I will,” she said and gave him a pointed look. “You’ve never been good at taking hints.”

Harry snorted and muttered something under his breath, before taking a seat at the kitchen island, next to where Hermione had been sitting moments before.

“How are you?” She asked as she pulled out two cups from the cupboard and moved over to the sink to fill the kettle with fresh, cold water.

She put it on the stove to boil and turned around to look at him when he didn’t reply. He chewed the corner of his lips, staring at the table with a thoughtful expression.

“…Harry?” Hermione asked carefully, leaning against the counter next to the stove.

Harry seemed to shake off some thoughts before looking up at her, reserve in his eyes. “Um.” He scratched his neck, and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I think… I think Ginny and I are gonna break up.”

Hermione blinked, staring at Harry in utter surprise and in complete loss of words.

He grimaced and spoke with a stiff voice. “Please – say something.”

Hermione let out a sharp breath and shook her head, gaping at him in disbelief. “What – _how –_ I don’t –” She stammered, leaning heavily against the counter, her knuckles white as she pressed her fingers against the edge.

Harry swallowed hard and looked down. He looked rather miserable.

“W-Why?” Hermione asked quietly. “I don’t – I don’t understand, Harry. Help me understand?” She said and walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The water was boiling on the stove, long forgotten.

He glanced at her hand on his shoulder and then slowly gazed up at her, his expression grim, his eyes moving between hers, as if searching for something. “I think – I think I’m in love with someone else.”

The words were uttered so quietly, that it took for a moment for Hermione to understand what he had said. He was in love… he was _in love_ with _someone else._ Someone who wasn’t his wife. She dropped her hand and frowned at him.

“That’s…” Hermione started, wondering how to express her disappointment in him in a supporting and friendly manner. After a second, she realised that there wasn’t really a way.

“…Unfortunate.” She murmured and took in a calming breath through her nose before looking at him squarely in the eye. “Who is that someone, if I may ask?”

Harry’s jaw worked. Then, he gave her a long, meaningful look.

And even though he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak, he had as much as said it with his eyes. Hermione didn’t know if she could be more shocked, even though deep down, she had known the moment he had announced it.

It was too much for her to handle, so she quickly turned away from him, grateful to notice the steaming kettle, the tea that was waiting for her to prepare it.

Neither of them spoke as she fixed them tea, as she steeped it exactly for four long minutes – minutes, during which her mind reeled with questions, with doubt, with anxiety, and during which she could hear Harry gritting his teeth together.

She brought their cups to the island, but she couldn’t make herself look at him in the eyes again. She couldn’t make herself go sit next to him.

“Hermione…” Harry whispered, placing a hand over hers on the edge of the table, squeezing it lightly. “Can we talk?”

She slowly moved her gaze up to meet his, and shook her head slightly. “Harry, that’s… I don’t know what to say.” She muttered, feeling like she wasn’t there, like she was looking at them from somewhere far away. “We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. _Best_ friends.”

Harry stood up from his seat and took both her hands in his. “I know – I know,” He nodded fervently. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? We’ve never been anything more, because there never has been a chance for it – we’ve never given it a shot.”

Hermione stumbled backwards, not really believing what Harry was saying. She shook her head again, trying to gather her thoughts, while Harry continued speaking, his words foreign to her.

“…There was always Ron and Ginny, and now that – now that there isn’t, now that there could be a chance, don’t you want to know what it could be like?” He implored her, his voice and expression firm, “Don’t you want to know what it would be like if _we_ could be together?”

Hermione gaped at him, too shocked to speak, to form thoughts, let alone words. 

“You’ve always been there for me,” Harry said cautiously, taking a step towards her. “You’ve always supported me, and understood me, no matter what.”

He was standing so close to her, and in any other time it wouldn’t have mattered, in any other time she would’ve smiled at him and possibly embraced him, but not that moment. She was too confused and shocked to even know how to feel.

She let out a wavering breath. “We’ve – I’ve never thought of you that way, Harry,” She said weakly, frowning at his chest.

It was Harry, her best friend – her first true friend. They had always been close, perhaps closer than Hermione had been with any other person. But was that enough? Did that mean there was a possibility for them to be more than friends? Hermione could only stand rigidly in place as his fingers touched the side of her cheek in a way he had never touched her, forcing her eyes up to meet his. She could only stare at him in surprise as his eyes bore into hers, gazing at her like he had never gazed at her. Overwhelmed by him, by what was happening between them, she vaguely saw him lean closer, barely noticing how her heart was beating loudly in her chest, how her fingers felt numb against her sides, and how her lips tingled when he pressed his against them, kissing her softly.

Harry pulled away after a moment and searched her eyes. “Just think about it, Hermione. That’s all I ask.”

Before she was able to react, there was a sound on the other side of the room. Someone was clearing their throat.

Harry spun around to face Hugo, who stared at Hermione with such disbelief and revulsion, that Hermione nearly collapsed on the floor in a mix of panic and shame.

“Hey, Mum.” Hugo said tightly, his jaw clenching. He didn’t even acknowledge Harry.

“I’ll be in the sitting room.” Hugo grunted firmly, before turning on his heels and walking away from the room.

Harry turned back to Hermione, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Um. I should – uh – go.” He said quietly, an anxious flicker in his eyes.

Hermione gave him a small nod and spoke with a stiff voice, her words trained at the floor, “Yes. That would be the best.”

She could practically hear his shoulders sag in defeat as he took his leave. Before he stepped out from the kitchen, she wished him good luck with his job that would begin the following week.

Harry stilled on the doorway, not looking back at her. “Thank you.”

He was gone a minute later, after a small ‘crack’ echoed in the hallway.

Hermione took in a shuddering breath, feeling overwhelmed by the last thirty minutes or so, feeling like she could quite well burst in anxiousness and distress. She wondered how much Hugo had heard, and thought that it didn’t matter since he had seen them kissing. _Harry_ kissing her. _Her_ letting it happen, standing there like a fool, not pushing him away.

She brought up a trembling hand and touched her lips with her fingertips.

What had she done?

After what felt like a long moment, she finally made her way to the sitting room, where she knew Hugo would be waiting for her, to possibly yell at her and express his disappointment in her.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, anxiously chewing at the cuticles of his left hand. As soon as he noticed her standing there, close to the doorway, he jumped up and stared at her in disbelief.

“What the fuck, Mum?” He demanded with frenzied alarm.

Hermione lifted her chin slightly at his coarse language, but knew enough not to comment point it out.

“Listen, Hugo. What you just saw –”

“ – What I just saw?!” Hugo yelled, interrupting her. He shook his head firmly, his hands balling into fists against his sides. “What I _saw_ , was my Mum and my _fucking uncle_ snogging in my kitchen!”

Hermione tried to calm herself, tried to remind herself that there was no use of yelling back at him. Not when he didn’t understand what was going on.

“ – What do you think Aunt Ginny’d say? Huh?” Hugo demanded, his voice still loud and unforgiving, his eyes blazing at her. “What about dad? He’d be _crushed_ if he knew!”

Hermione gaped at him in bewilderment. “Your _father_? Your father?!” She said incredulously, her voice rising. Why in the name of Merlin would _he_ be crushed? “Your father has nothing to do with this, and I think he is the last bloody person on the earth to be entitled to be ‘crushed’ about what happened! Your _Aunt_ is the one who is allowed to be hurt by it!”

She breathed heavily after her outburst, knowing that she might’ve taken it a bit too far.

Hugo shook his head and watched her in disappointment. “And what about everyone else?” He asked coldly. “What about James, Al and Lily? What about Rose? Me? Gran and Grandad?”

Hermione let out a weary sigh and gave him a serious look. “Hugo. It was a mistake, something that will not happen again. I hope that you will promise me to not speak about it to anyone,” she said slowly, beseeching him.

Even though she didn’t know yet _what_ to think of the whole incident, she knew it hadn’t been the right thing to do. Ginny was one of her best friends.

“ _I_ will talk to Ginny and Harry about this,” Hermione continued calmly, giving him a pointed look. “And if _they_ think their children have the right to know, it will be up to them to tell them.”

Hugo stared at her for a long moment, his face expressionless. She wondered what was going on in his head.

She thought about Harry’s intense gaze, and wondered if _she_ had ever looked at him like he had looked at her. If she had ever had those thoughts, or felt that curiosity. And if so, since when? When had everything changed between them?

Not making any sense with her thoughts, she made a firm promise to herself. Whatever it was that had happened that night, needed to be discussed with Ginny and Harry. And regardless of what she thought about it, she knew that nothing like it could ever happen again.

“I will make sure it won’t happen again.” Hermione said finally and gave Hugo a reassuring look.

Hugo studied her for a long moment, before he spoke with a muted voice. “I hope you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm so sorry for the drama. (Please don't lose hope yet my dear Hinny shippers!)


	25. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to hear your thoughts about this story! Enjoy :)

**Chapter 25: Rose**

**Tuesday, 3 February 2026**

It had been slow and quiet since the morning rush had ended, and Rose knew she should’ve already got used to it – that some days were slow, and they barely had customers during lunch time, and she would be counting the seconds until her shift would end. And then there were days when there wasn’t a free seat left in the small coffee shop and it felt like they had a constant line reaching to the door from the morning until the late afternoon.

It definitely was one of those quiet days, but instead of counting the seconds, Rose had tried to make herself busy by cleaning the spotless tables and the counter, while Claire – one of the part time employees – worked in the back, making inventory and probably taking marathon calls with her boyfriend. Rose wasn’t really bothered, since that was what she would have been doing, if she had been in the back instead of Claire, and if she could have actually made Nick to take a break from work and talk rubbish with her, which she knew she couldn’t have. She would have probably just text with Molly or Hugo, who were both staying at their homes and had time to entertain her – well, probably not Molly, since she was actually taking care of a small human being while she was staying at home. So, Rose would have texted with Hugo. And weirdly, she would have texted with Scorpius. Which was an entirely new development, after seeing him at the coffee shop several times during the past month.

They were… in friendly terms now. Scorpius had taken a habit of popping by in the coffee shop every once in a while, on his way to a client or a meeting or something of the sort. It if was quiet, they chatted. He usually didn’t go into the details about his work or his life, and most of the times they saw each other, he turned the conversation to her, asking how she and her family were doing. He even inquired about Nick – which had been weird at first, but after seeing the polite and unaffected smile on his face when she had told him that Nick was fine, that they were fine, she had relaxed somewhat.

They talked a lot about Jackson, how fast he was growing up, and when had been the last time Rose had seen him. It always felt like too long ago, even though she saw him at least every two weeks. Rose had even once showed Scorpius pictures of Jackson: sleeping, smiling, doing baby stuff, and Scorpius had practically melted. Which hadn’t been a surprise, since she remembered exactly how well the blonde Slytherin had come along with Jasmine, and how much he had adored her.

It had been odd, at first, seeing Scorpius regularly, talking to him. But slowly, Rose had become at ease in his company. There were no long stares between them, no hidden meanings, no mentions of their past. They were just… two people, two acquaintances talking about their daily lives. And even though Rose had been relieved that the friendship – if it could be described as so – with Scorpius was going on smoothly, she had been nervous when she had told Nick about it. But Nick had been…oddly unruffled by Rose seeing and talking to Scorpius. Perhaps it had been because Rose had told him that there was nothing going on between them. It was admirable, Nick’s reaction. Rose wasn’t sure if she could be as cool with Nick if he would start hanging around with Dominique, for example…

When Rose couldn’t find a spot on any surface that wasn’t shining with cleanser, she threw the rag on the counter and let out a long sigh. She glanced at the timepiece on the wall. There was still an hour left of her shift. An hour before Claire would come to the front until Higgins would come to close the shop for the day. An hour before Rose could crash into her bed for a short kip, before Nick would come and spend the evening with her.

She looked at the door of the coffee shop, wondering if she stared at it hard enough, perhaps a customer would walk in and relieve her from the boredom.

To her utter surprise, the door opened ten seconds later. Her shock, however, wasn’t long lasting. It was just one of her cousins.

“Hey, Al,” Rose said with a defeated sigh. “What’s up?”

Albus lifted his brows up as he walked to the counter, giving her an amused look. “I’m glad you’re happy to see me, cousin.”

Rose rolled her eyes and crossed her arms against her chest before taking a couple of steps backwards to lean against the counter lining against the back wall. “I’m bored out of my mind, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain…”

Albus snorted and then looked around them. “Is Scar around…?”

Rose shook her head. “No. She’s at the hospital. It’s Tuesday.”

“Right.” Albus said slowly and frowned at the counter between them.

Rose gave him a scrutinising look. “Is everything all right? Hugo told me you’re staying at James’s now?”

They had talked a bit about James and Albus during their latest Sunday lunch with their mother, which for some reason had been weirder and more uncomfortable than usual. Rose had figured that something – an argument perhaps – was going on between her mother and brother, but she hadn’t brought it up.

Albus blinked at her. “Uh. Yeah. You – you talked to Hugo?” He asked, giving her a strange look as he trailed a hand through his hair.

Rose shrugged. “Yeah. He mentioned something about Emma’s grandparents?” She asked, wondering what really was going on with Albus, and why he was staying with his brother. Had something happened?

Albus seemed to relax quite a bit. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, at first it was about them, I suppose,” he said and grimaced, “That is, until Emma had a row with her dad during a family meal and outed herself to everyone.”

“Merlin,” Rose muttered and walked to the counter Albus was leaning against. She remembered Albus telling her a long time ago that if Emma’s family ever found out about Albus’s and Emma’s sham, he would be kicked out of the house he had been calling his home. “So, you’re, um. _Homeless_ now?” She asked, cringing at the word.

Albus huffed and scowled at the surface between them. “I suppose I am.”

Rose nodded slowly and eyed him with worry. “What are you going to do?”

Even though she knew Albus would be _fine_ – he had a job and he had wealthy parents and more than one friend with whom he could crash before getting a new place of his own, she still wondered if he was going to be all right. It had to be difficult for him, to let go of the place that seemed to mean a lot to him.

Albus sighed and gave her a weary look. “Dunno. Suppose I’ll be at James’s for a while. Or move back to Winkfield before I’ll get my own place.”

Rose nodded and placed a hand over his, trying to give him a reassuring look. “I’m sure you’ll work it out, Al.”

The corners of his lips curved slightly up before he pulled his hand away and shoved it to the pocket of his jeans. “What about you? How’s it going?”

“All right,” Rose said and turned towards the back counter to prepare herself a cup of tea. “Tea?” She inquired over her shoulder.

Albus shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks. You seen Scorpius lately?”

Rose nearly flinched at the unexpected question, as well as the slightly demanding tone in her cousin’s voice. She turned slowly around and gave him a searching look. “I’m sure you’re aware of exactly how many times I’ve seen him or talked to him lately.”

Albus seemed unbothered by her reply, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that told Rose that she had been right. Albus shrugged. “So, you’re what, friends now?” He asked carefully, his eyes tracking her reaction closely.

“Yes.” Rose said simply and turned back to her tea.

There was a short silence while Rose finished preparing her tea and turned back to face her cousin.

“And Nick’s fine with that?” Albus asked suddenly.

Rose’s brows lifted up. “Why wouldn’t he be fine with that?”

Albus shrugged, looking doubtful.

Rose huffed. “I’m allowed to have friends. I’m sure Nick has friends as well,” Rose said, a bit defensively, while knowing that it really wasn’t the same thing, but not wanting to give Albus the satisfaction to be right about it.

“I’m sure he has,” Albus muttered while he looked away.

There was something in his tone that bothered her quite a bit, but before she was able to point it out, the door to the coffee shop opened, revealing Rose’s brother.

“Hugo!” Rose said and gave him a smile.

Hugo grinned back and then looked between Albus and Rose as he walked further, his smile quickly vanishing. “Hey,” he grunted when he stopped next to Albus, his eyes lingering at his cousin, an odd look in his eyes.

“Hey,” Albus greeted back, and then fixed his gaze at the counter, a deep frown forming between his brows.

There was an obvious uneasiness between the two boys. Neither of them looked the other in the eye, and both seemed surprised and very uncomfortable by the other one’s presence.

Rose glanced between her brother and her cousin. “Um. What’s –

“I should go,” Albus said suddenly, giving Hugo a furtive glance before flashing a stiff smile at Rose. “I’ll talk to you later,” He said and hastily took his leave.

Rose gave Hugo a confused look. Her brother seemed quite bothered by something. Something, Rose was betting was about Albus.

“What is going on?” She asked after a quiet moment. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Hugo groaned and looked around them. “Aren’t you getting off soon?”

Rose glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes until her shift would end. She sighed in relief. “Yeah. In ten minutes.”

Hugo nodded. “All right. We’ll talk outside then.”

* * *

It was no surprise that she couldn’t really take the much-needed nap she had been planning, not after she had talked with Hugo on her way back home. After all, her brother had told her the most confusing and shocking news she had heard in a long time. Even with Hugo coming to seek refuge from her a couple of days before Christmas hadn’t been as shocking as it was hearing what her _mother_ and her _uncle_ had been up to.

Hugo had been worried about her – unsurprising after her shocked and loud reaction in the middle of her home street – and had asked if she was all right and if she wanted some company, but Rose had told him that she needed to process it on her own and had sent him back home. Back to their mother.

Their mother, who according to Hugo, had promised him that nothing of the sort would ever happen again. But what Rose couldn’t stop thinking, was why she hadn’t told that to Harry? Why Rose’s mother hadn’t pushed him away and told him to bury any more-than-friendly-feelings he possibly harboured towards her? Why hadn’t she marched straight to Rose’s Aunt? Why had she kissed Harry?

As Rose thought about it, she reckoned her mother could’ve already had that chat with Harry and Ginny. It wasn’t like Rose and Hugo would necessarily know if their mother and their aunt and uncle were already solving their matters. Rose hoped that that was the case, at least.

As minutes passed, Rose abandoned the thought of getting a lovely nap. Instead, she slumped onto the couch and opened the telly, deciding to not think of anything of importance until Nick would come to visit her after work.

As she was on her third episode of Chicago Fire, the front door opened and chatter filled the hallway. Rose smiled at Nick and Scarlett who walked into her line of sight.

“Look who I found wandering on the streets,” Scarlett said airily, before making her way into the kitchen.

Nick smirked at Rose and walked closer to her. “Wasn’t really wandering.”

He leaned down to kiss Rose on her lips.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.” Rose murmured against his lips, feeling a thrill of excitement at his presence.

Nick huffed in amusement before his lips pressed against hers, kissing her slowly, softly. There was even a hint of tongue, which made a sparkle of pleasure run down her body and urged her to take a hold of his neck to prolong the kiss that was originally meant as a greeting.

“Oh, Merlin…” Scarlett groaned from the direction of their kitchen.

Nick pulled back and he and Rose shared a dazed look before they both turned to look at Scarlett, who was leaning against the counter and watching them, like there was nothing better to do.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Scarlett said innocently, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Rose rolled her eyes at her friend while Nick snorted and took a seat next to Rose.

“How was your day?” Nick asked, draping an arm over the back of the sofa and giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

Rose thought back of her day, of her conversation with Albus, his muttered comment that was still echoing in the back of her mind, his doubt about Nick… She thought about Hugo, the strange interaction between Albus and Hugo, which made sense now, after Hugo had told Rose about their mother and uncle – but it made sense only on Hugo’s side. Unless – unless Albus knew about his father and their mother…but why had he been so at ease with Rose then? Something else was up, but she wasn’t sure what. And then, there was of course the thing about Rose’s mother and uncle.

She didn’t want to talk about her confusing thoughts with Nick that night. Not when she knew he would be leaving in a couple of hours. He never stayed the night, even if it was weekend and he wouldn’t be working the next day. Even if she asked him to stay.

“It was all right. Uneventful.” She finally said, trying to give him an earnest smile. “And yours?”

Nick explained about his day, how exactly dull it had been, and how many times his father had yelled at him to never trust a Slytherin, to never trust a rich old lady, or a Minister or anyone in the wizarding world. Apparently, they had a client who caused both Nick and his father to grit their teeth together as they tried to solve her business and interact with her.

A bit later, Scarlett joined them and they put on a movie. But while it was one that Rose hadn’t seen before, her mind still kept wandering to her cousin and her brother. Had something happened? Why had Albus left the moment Hugo had stepped into the coffee shop? Was she overthinking everything? Was she trying to figure out something that wasn’t even there?

She glanced at Scarlett, who was curled in an armchair she had transfigured from one of the kitchen chairs, her fingers busy typing away with her phone. Occasionally, she rolled her eyes at the screen, while all along, a flicker of a smile curved up her lips.

“Who’s that?” Rose asked curiously, pulling Nick’s focus from the movie to her and Scarlett.

Scarlett looked up and blinked at them. “Oh. It’s just Millie,” she said stiffly and stood up. “I’m gonna head to bed,” she announced, yawning as she walked to the bathroom to do her nightly routine.

Five minutes later, she walked towards her room, waving them good night and reminding them to use a silencing charm. Something which made Nick chuckle lightly and Rose’s ears burn in embarrassment.

It was rather curious, how fast they were over of their – well, mostly Rose’s – embarrassment. Fifteen minutes after Scarlett had disappeared to her room, Rose and Nick were making out on the sofa in earnest, the movie still going on in the background.

The small sofa was a bit cramped, and it would’ve been easier to just stand up and go into her room and continue there, but it felt too good to stop, especially when Nick pressed his hips at hers, groaning against her lips, letting her know exactly how hard he was.

Rose sighed as Nick’s lips travelled down the side of her cheek and her neck, his fingers brushing her breasts, his thigh between hers, while he leant against his other arm that was placed over her shoulder. She let her hands roam over his shoulders, over his strong back, over his backside, and over his thighs. Nick cut back a moan when her other hand found the bulge of his trousers and he pressed his forehead against her shoulder as she started to move her hand. He breathed roughly, and then suddenly – he was tearing himself away from her with a frustrated groan.

Rose blinked at him, but the next second, he had scooped her up, into his arms with a practiced manner and took a firm step towards Rose’s room.

“Wait!” Rose whispered urgently.

Nick stilled, the heat in his eyes clearing away slightly. He gave her a questioning look.

“The telly. I have to close it,” Rose said and grimaced as her words managed to evaporate the rest of the intensity in Nick’s eyes.

Nick stared at her in a mild disbelief and then put her down, a huff of amusement leaving his lips. He continued to watch her as she went back to the sofa to search for the remote and managed to shut the device off.

“Anything else?” He asked with smirk, his eyes darkening, “Before I’m allowed to undress you and savour every bit of your body?

Rose shivered, feeling a spike of pleasure travel down her spine as she remembered exactly how well he had savoured every bit of her the last time he had come over. Images of Nick between her legs, kissing his way up flickered to the forefront of her mind, making her dizzy. She smiled at him. “I’m good,” she said nervously and took his hand to guide them towards her room.

* * *

Every time Nick left like that, after a heated and intense moment, after an urgent and melting bliss, after a short moment of calm and closeness, she felt more alone than she had felt at any point of the day. She felt more alone than during the nights she hadn’t been in his company during the evening.

His words, uttered only an hour before, still echoed in her mind.

_Maybe._

He had told her that _maybe_ he’ll stay the night the next weekend, after she had asked him, after she had told him that she wanted him to. After she had told him that it would mean something to her.

Rose let out a weary sigh and took a quick look at her phone to confirm to herself that yes, it was already close to midnight, and she ought to go to sleep, as she was expected to wake up bright and early for her morning shift the next day. She flopped down against her pillow and stared at the ceiling.

It bothered her somewhat – Nick never staying the night with her – and while Rose had tried to give it some time, to give _him_ time, she knew it was something they ought to have a conversation about.

There were other things – things she understood perfectly well, and was completely okay if those said things didn’t change right away – like the fact that possibly all of Nick’s friends knew that they were dating, but still, Rose and Nick never spent time with them. And Nick didn’t spend time with Rose whenever her friends or cousins were around, besides Scarlett, and Rose figured that that was solely because Scarlett was her flatmate. Rose thought it was kind of understandable, seeing as James was one of Nick’s closest friends and one of Rose’s cousins. She wondered, if Nick thought it would’ve been weird for them. Not that James was even around that much these days.

Nick also obviously didn’t want her to meet his family, but that was also fine for Rose. Because she wasn’t in a hurry to drag Nick to meet her mother and her father either, even though they had asked more than once.

Still, Rose thought everything else was all right between them. She was happy. She enjoyed spending time with Nick and talking with him. They had stimulating conversations. He was smart, and easy to be around with. He was also easy on the eyes. He was very handsome. His body was muscular and solid, and he kissed and made love with such an ease and firmness that Rose sometimes felt jealous, either of his confidence, or the fact that his confidence had to be a result of a long practice. Rose felt light-headed when she thought about how brilliant the sex between them was. How good he was able to make her feel.

She was sure their relationship would move forward, even if it was at a slow pace. She hoped, at least.

Her thoughts flickered back to what Albus had said, earlier that day in the coffee shop. About him being sure that Nick had friends as well. What kind of friends had he meant? Did Albus know something that Rose didn’t?

She and Nick hadn’t really discussed it, being exclusive. But the more she thought about it, the more laughable it seemed, to be anything but. _Of course_ they were in an agreement that neither of them was romantically pursuing other partners.

…Weren’t they?

Why had Albus’s words bothered her so much?

Before she was able to think twice, she was already calling her cousin.

It took him a long time to answer.

_“…Rosie?”_ Albus mumbled, half asleep.

Rose cleared her throat. “Hey Al. About what you said today –”

_“Merlin, Rose, can’t this wait for tomorrow?”_ Albus groaned through the line, sounding like he was shuffling in his bed. _“I was sleeping…”_

“Well, you shouldn’t have said anything today, huh? I can’t think of anything else now.” Rose said sharply.

There was a sigh and a loud yawn, more shifting. Then, Albus spoke with a clearer voice. _“What’s going on?”_

Rose took in a calming breath. “We were talking about Scorpius, and… Nick. And you said…”

_“Yeah?”_

Rose stood up to sit in the middle of her bed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Was she actually this pathetic? “…You said, uh, that you’re sure he has friends as well. And – and I know that it sounds bloody stupid right now, but you wouldn’t even look at me then, and we were talking about _Scorpius_ –”

_“What does he have to do with it? I thought you were friends? Are you not?”_

Rose huffed. “Yes. That’s not the point.”

_“Then what is, Rose? I wanna go back to sleep.”_ Albus grunted.

“What kind of friends were you talking about?” Rose asked, her body still and tense as she waited for his answer.

Albus sighed. _“I dunno, Rose.”_

Rose chewed the inside of her cheek. “So – why’d you say it?”

_“Look, Rose. Let’s just forget I said anything, yeah? I haven’t seen Nick in a while. I don’t know what he’s like these days…”_

“What does that even mean?” Rose asked urgently, feeling frustrated. What the hell did Albus mean by that? What had Nick been like when Albus had known him?

There was long pause.

_“It’s nothing, just forg–”_

“Do not, Al,” Rose hissed, interrupting him. “Tell me. Now.”

Albus huffed. _“He’s never been in a relationship. He only ever dates women. Until he doesn’t.”_

Rose stared ahead in the darkness. She thought that Albus’s assessment would actually explain a lot. Still, it didn’t help with the fact that she felt… disappointed.

_“Rose?”_ Albus asked carefully, and then let out a long sigh. _“Look. You shouldn’t listen to me. What I said is only what I’ve seen for the past couple of years. It’s not like I’m that close to him. Like James is. I dunno. Maybe you could talk to James?”_ He inquired tentatively, and quickly continued, a hint of wryness in his tone. _“I mean, not now. He’ll be pissed off if he misses any of his precious beauty sleep.”_

Rose swallowed hard. “No, thanks, but… I think I should talk to Nick.”

Albus cleared his throat. _“Yeah. That would be… better. Um. Can we talk later?”_

Rose sighed. “Yeah. Sure.”

_“G’night, Rosie.”_

“Good night, Al.”

She kept staring at the screen of her phone after their call had ended. Then, without thinking, she opened her messages and the one thread that had been in her thoughts at times. The thread with a picture of her and baby Jackson, both staring at the camera, the former smiling widely, the latter eyeing the device with doubt. A picture that was sent in a spur of moment, after he had visited her in the coffee shop and after they had had a lengthy conversation about Jackson.

And under the picture, there was a reply that thanked her for it. A reply that said they were both adorable.

She read the words, over and over, trying to decipher them. Trying to decipher _him_. In the end, she was none the wiser, and so she closed the screen and put her phone back to the nightstand, forcing the thoughts of _him_ and _what if_ to somewhere deep in her mind.


	26. Albus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! So - announcement: I'm not going to abandon this story.
> 
> BUT I'm not able to post weekly at the moment. Lately, the schedule has been stressing me out, and it shouldn't really be that way (since I have a job that stresses me out enough AND since this is really a hobby of mine). That being said... I am rather proud of myself for posting a chapter every week for the past 5,5 months.
> 
> However, I'm trying to post at least biweekly since the fic's only halfway done and so that you guys would actually remember what happened in the previous chapter.
> 
> Enjoy and take care everyone. And did I mention, I appreciate feedback? Let me know what you thought of this one :)

**Chapter 26: Albus**

**Sunday, 8 February 2026**

Albus threw himself to lie on his stomach, next to Scarlett. She was still panting, getting down from her high.

“…I can’t believe you just did that,” Scarlett mumbled, her eyes closed and a contented smile on her lips.

Albus snorted and turned his head to look at her. “What? Lick your –”

“ – Don’t.”

“ – after I came in–”

“You’re ruining it, Potter.” Scarlett said firmly and kicked him on the calf.

Albus let out an amused laugh. “I assume you weren’t opposed to it?”

“Not in the slightest,” she said and moved her head to the side to give him a narrow-eyed look. “I’m sure you’re _quite_ aware of the fact.”

Albus suppressed a grin. Oh, he was aware of all kinds of things that turned Scarlett on. Things, he was more than willing to do for her.

It was their… _fifth? …seventh?_ time together since Albus had moved to bunk at James’s place. He had finally gone to see Scarlett, after two and a half weeks of reminiscing the New Year’s Eve and how brilliant the night had been.

Albus had only hoped their meeting would’ve gone as it had, seeing as he hadn’t known if Scarlett was alone, or even fancying another go with him. He had been starving, itching, craving. And he had known it was because of her. Scarlett had been alone, and they had ended up having a quick shag in her hallway and afterwards agreeing that _that_ had been their last time.

The point of his visit had been to scratch that itch, to fulfil his hunger and then move on. But for some reason, he kept coming back to her. And she kept coming back to him, even though after every time, she told him that she wasn’t going to do it again.

The shag in the hallway had been intended to be their last time, until a couple of days afterwards, when Scarlett had sent him a text, asking where he was and if he was alone. He hadn’t questioned how she had got a hold of his number, and instead had given her James’s address and told her that he would be alone for the next three or so hours. She had appeared on his doorstep only ten minutes later, grimacing as Albus had informed her that it was his brother’s place, and then practically dragged him to his bedroom.

Then it had happened again at Scarlett’s place. And then at his. Albus actively tried not to think about the fact that his cousin lived with Scarlett, or wonder how badly Rose would take it if she ever found out that Albus was repeatedly shagging her best friend and flatmate. And Albus figured Scarlett was as adamantly trying to forget that Albus lived at his brother’s place.

He watched as Scarlett stood up from the bed and started to get dressed. “Wanna stay for tea before you go?”

Scarlett huffed and gave him a pointed look, before continuing to wrestle her top on. “Because it went so well the last time?” she asked with wry amusement.

Albus grimaced. The last time Scarlett had been there, James had come home earlier than he was supposed to – and had walked out from the kitchen as Scarlett had been exiting the bathroom. She hadn’t been exactly stark naked, but Albus reckoned it would’ve been uncomfortable enough even if Scarlett hadn’t been dressed only in her underwear. She had marched straight to Albus, who had been still lying in his bed, had called him an arse and made a hasty leave a moment after. James told him later that day that their coach had had some family emergency and had cut their training short.

“You know… I _am_ sorry about that,” Albus murmured, not for the first time.

Scarlett sighed and turned fully towards him, her knees brushing the edge of the bed. “I know. I just… don’t want to make this more complicated than it already is, if you know what I mean…?”

Albus shrugged. “Sure.”

He knew she had a point. He wondered if things would’ve been the same if she wasn’t Rose’s friend. If he wasn’t James’s brother.

“So – what are you planning on doing today?” Scarlett asked, gathering her hair in a loose bun on her nape. “Lazing in bed the whole day?”

Albus grinned. “I was going to,” he said and crossed his arms behind his head, watching her as she pulled up her trousers. “But then my brother guilt tripped me to visit our parents with him.”

Scarlett gave him a questioning look, before her eyes lingered on his bare chest.

“I don’t mind, really. Haven’t seen them in a while,” Albus continued, the corners of his mouth curving upwards as he saw her gaze darkening slightly. “You sure you wanna leave?” He asked quietly, his voice low.

Scarlett eyes flickered over his face and chest, and Albus knew that for a moment, she was definitely considering it: ripping her clothes off and sliding into warm sheets with him. But the moment passed and she shook her head, grimacing. “Sorry, have to run. Promised Rose we’d hang when she’s back from her mum. Her dad’s working today and she’s watching Jasmine for a bit.”

Albus nodded slowly, feeling a small pang of guilt as he thought about his two cousins: Rose, who was none the wiser of what happened behind her back, and Jasmine who probably soon forgot about Albus, seeing how rarely he went to see her. The last time had been on Christmas Eve, and before that… Albus didn’t even remember.

“What?”

Albus blinked at Scarlett, who was watching him closely. “Uh. Nothing,” he grunted. “Nick not joining you?” He asked then, his voice tight.

Scarlett snorted, her bright green eyes dancing with mirth. “Why is it that every time you mention Nick, there’s this, you know,” she said and waved a hand over his face, “sour glint in your expression?”

Albus lifted his brows at her but didn’t bother to reply to her.

“You have a problem with Nick? Or just with the fact that he’s dating Rose?” Scarlett asked knowingly, crossing her arms against her chest. At his silence, she rolled her eyes. “Should’ve known… You want Rose to date Scorpius, don’t you?”

The truth was, that Albus didn’t know. He didn’t know, because the last time the two of them were a couple, it had ended badly. And it had taken a long time before Scorpius was back to being his normal self. After their graduation, Scorpius had been miserable for a long time, not letting anyone in, not even Albus. He had dated several girls, but Albus doubted Scorpius had enjoyed being in their company.

And even if being with Rose was what Scorpius wanted more than anything, Albus wasn’t sure his friend could take another bad turn. Not with her.

Albus tried to explain it to Scarlett, tried to tell her that he didn’t know what he hoped would happen, because there was a chance it was going to end badly. Scarlett nodded and stayed silent as he talked. After a moment, she let out a long sigh and shook her head.

“I know what you mean. And I think it’s quite the same for Rose,” she said and looked at the mattress between them, chewing the inside her cheek. “However… We should just stay out of it,” she said and glanced back at him.

Albus nodded slowly, wondering if it was too late for that.

“You sure your brother’s not home?” Scarlett asked as she took her wand from his nightstand.

Albus shrugged lazily. “Dunno. Want me to call him so we’ll find out?”

Scarlett lifted her brows at him, unimpressed, and walked towards his bedroom door. “Cheeky.” She murmured, before glancing at him at the door. “Good shag. See ya!”

Albus laughed as she closed the door behind her. It wasn’t like he disagreed.

* * *

It was close to one in the afternoon, when Albus dragged himself out of bed, knowing that his brother would be home soon. James had a day off, but he had still gone to Cornwall to fly and practice his tactics. James was pushing himself hard, obsessed by getting the right nutrition and the correct amount of sleep and practice, and at times, it drove Albus mad. Still, Albus reckoned it was better than what had been before. And James, well, his game was better than it had been in a long time. It wasn’t really surprising, as Quidditch was now one of the few things that seemed to matter to him.

Albus glanced around the room. Even with many of his things scattered around the space, Albus didn’t think of it as _his_ room. It felt like what it was – a guest room. He grimaced at the mess, and then flicked his wand. Dirty clothes zoomed into a hamper, the clutter of quills and articles on his desk were organised, and the sheets in his bed changed into new ones. After few minutes, everything looked presentable and in place.

Albus showered and went to the kitchen to make himself breakfast for lunch. He scrolled through his texts while nibbling toast and sipping tea, and read again the one he had received from Emma the previous night. She had asked him how he was doing, and if he could stop by at her and Amanda’s place sometime during next week.

He swallowed down the bitterness in his throat and sent a short ‘yes’ to her, trying not to linger too long in thoughts of resentment and disappointment. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known this day would come. Emma had told him many times that she wanted to come out to her parents, that she didn’t want to hide being gay, or hide what she had with Amanda.

Still, it felt like the day had come too soon. Albus definitely had been surprised by the reveal. He cringed as he thought about the unfortunate family dinner at Emma’s parents’ home.

It had all started when Emma’s grandparents had appeared on their doorstep and informed Emma - who had been present that day, luckily - that they were in for a two week visit from the States, where they lived. Albus immediately knew Emma’s father had had something to do with it, as there would’ve been plenty of room in their house but it was Emma’s home where they had decided to stay.

While Emma’s parents thought that Emma and Albus were dating and living together, Emma’s grandparents did not know about their living arrangements. According to Emma, they wouldn’t have approved them living together without an engagement or marriage.

Which was utter bollocks, on Albus’s opinion. Still, like the previous time Emma’s grandparents had come to Britain, Albus had agreed once again to move elsewhere during their stay, bunking at James’s place and occasionally meeting Emma and her family for tea and dinners.

Everything had been going smoothly, until the last night of Emma’s grandparents visit, when everyone had gathered at Emma’s parents’ home for dinner. Albus had been in high spirits that night, knowing that he could soon move back to his home, knowing that it would only be a matter of hours until his life would go back to normal. He had been waiting for the moment when he wouldn’t have to wake up at five in the morning every day to James’s particularly loud morning routine and curse inwardly for forgetting to put up a silencing charm for the night. He had been waiting for the day when he could simply be and not worry about making too much noise at nights, or any other time his brother felt the need to sleep.

At that night, everything had gone to shit.

Emma and her father had fallen into an argument, Albus wasn’t even sure about what. Perhaps it had been about the engagement her father had been waiting for, while somehow knowing it wouldn’t happen. Perhaps it had been about Emma’s father running into Emma and Amanda, who had been enjoying a cozy cup of coffee the other day in a muggle coffee shop in the city. Whatever it had been, at the end of the argument, Emma had outed herself to her family, screaming at her father that she was gay, and telling him that whatever hopes he had regarding Albus and whatever torch he had been carrying for them, he ought to shove it up somewhere the sun wouldn’t shine.

Before Emma had stormed away from the dinner table, she had also revealed that she had been living with a lesbian woman, doing _lesbian things_ – something Albus definitely would’ve snorted at after seeing her father’s face, had the situation not been so uncomfortable for him – and that the relationship between her and Albus had been a complete act, done because she was certain her family wouldn’t have accepted her the way she was.

Thankfully, she had had the courtesy to stomp back and drag Albus away with her.

And just like that, Albus officially became homeless. At first, he had been angry and bitter, knowing that Emma could’ve handled bloody _everything_ better than the way she had. But then, as days passed by, he had managed to calm down a bit and talk to her. She had apologised and had told him that she had been just so _tired_ of lying, tired of pretending something she was not.

They had had a long chat, and Albus had asked about Emma’s parents and her grandparents who had left the country the day after the dinner. Apparently, Emma’s parents had wanted to meet Amanda, and while they had been shocked about the reveal and disappointed that she had lied to them for so long, they hadn’t been angry. They weren’t going to shut her out from their lives. Emma’s grandparents, on the other hand… Emma hadn’t really wanted to talk about them, other than mentioning that they had gone back to the States and were not answering to floocalls or owls.

As Albus was finishing his meal, the front door clicked open and banged shut. He listened as his brother threw his bag on the floor, along with his coat, before walking towards the kitchen with resolute steps.

James opened the kitchen door a moment later and glanced at Albus before making his way to the sink.

“Hey,” James grunted, his back against Albus, as he filled a glass with cold water and chugged it down in one gulp.

“Hey. How was practice?” Albus asked, leaning back in his chair and watching his brother.

James looked a lot healthier than he had been some months ago, and if it was possible, he had managed to gain even more muscle mass. His shoulders definitely hadn’t been straining his shirts like that before the holidays. Albus’s gaze moved to the black lion tattooed on James’s shoulder and upper arm – or what was visible of it with his shirt on. A tattoo, which James usually kept covered or concealed with a charm. It had been one of those things James had done three sheets to the wind drunk the previous summer, and something he hadn’t been able to remove by magic afterwards. It was something, Albus knew his brother obviously regretted.

James turned to face Albus and leaned against the edge of the sink. He shrugged. “Could’ve been better.”

“How perfectionist of you,” Albus said matter-of-factly, suppressing an eyeroll. “You know you’ll outperform anyone. Reckon Johnson’s ecstatic.”

James huffed and watched Albus for a moment, before he spoke, “Nah, that’d be your forte, making people ecstatic. Like our cousin’s best friend.”

Albus lifted his brows at his brother. “Touché.”

James went to the cupboards to fix himself a sandwich while Albus shook his head slowly, wondering if his brother knowing things would bite him in the arse in the end.

“Are you two a thing, then?” James asked while preparing his meal, glancing at Albus over his shoulder.

Albus sniffed. “Why would we be a… _thing_? We’re just shagging.”

James hummed and gave him a look of disbelief before returning back to his ministrations. After a short moment, he took a seat opposite to Albus, digging into his sandwich and munching half of it with two large bites.

“You told Rose yet?”

Albus snorted. “I’m not gonna risk my life just so she can be updated about who I occasionally shag.”

“Occasionally, huh?”

Albus scowled at James’s knowing expression. “Sod off.”

“Speaking of Rose,” James said slowly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, before fixing Albus a grim look. “What was that shit you pulled with Nick?”

Albus cringed inwardly. He should’ve known James would question him about it, even though he had hoped his brother would let it slide and turn his focus back to Quidditch, in which he was mostly fixated these days.

On Tuesday, Fred had invited James, Albus and Nick to his place to watch the telly, play video games and eat snacks. Since James usually had a day off on Wednesdays, Tuesdays were basically the only days when he allowed himself to be flexible about his bedtime. Albus knew that James didn’t fly on Wednesdays, and instead used his day off to sleep, to run, and if he felt like it – to see their parents. Albus rarely joined him for a trip to Winkfield on weekdays, since he was either working long days or was busy having a life.

So, they had both gone to their cousin’s place and had spent the evening there.

Throughout the night, their topics had mostly revolved around their jobs and the Quidditch league. Fred had told them that he had been seeing a Muggle woman for some weeks now, a woman who was fifteen years older than him _and_ had a kid. Albus, James and Nick ribbed him about it for a bit, until Fred asked about Nick and Rose, and successfully wiped off the smirks on everyone’s faces.

Albus had been relieved that he hadn’t been the one to open the discussion about his cousin and Nick, even if it was something he was very curious about. James had seemed annoyed but had still stared at his best friend with a demanding look as they waited for him to speak. And Nick, well, Nick had been utterly uncomfortable as he had shrugged and told them that they were good.

_“So – you guys are serious and shit?” Albus asked suddenly, watching closely how Nick stiffened momentarily against the sofa cushions._

_They had ventured to the sitting room from the kitchen, after Fred’s inquiry about Rose and after the long silence that followed Nick’s reply. Fred had then suggested that they’d play one of the video games he had got from a friend, and practically had run to hide in the bathroom. Bloody coward._

_James arched a brow at Albus, who had vacated the only armchair in the room, and then moved his gaze back to Nick, who sat next to him._

_“Uh. I dunno.” Nick said with a tight voice and shrugged. “I mean, I really like spending time with her, but, well, it’s only been a few months…”_

_Albus hummed curiously. “Don’t really know what that means. But what I do know is that Rose_ is _serious.”_

_“Al…” Nick muttered, wiping his hands against his thighs as he gave Albus a strained look. “Do we have to talk about Rose?”_

_Albus shrugged. “We don’t. As long as she knows where you’re at.” Albus said grimly, giving Nick a meaningful look, all the while knowing how James’s sharp gaze was drilling into the side of his head._

_Nick’s jaw clenched before he spoke. “She knows.”_

_Albus bloody well doubted it._

He sighed and shook his head at his brother. “Nothing. Just, you know. Trying to figure out if Nick’s as invested as Rose seems to be. Which I personally think is not.” Albus said with a shrug.

Albus thought back at his and Rose’s conversation at the coffee shop that day, and the late-night phone call they had had after he had come back to James’s place from Fred’s. Albus was certain that Rose was more serious about her and Nick’s relationship than Nick was.

James scowled at Albus for a long moment before he spoke. “This is _just_ the fucking thing I was afraid would happen!” He groaned. “I’m literally where I told Nick not to put me.”

Albus eyed his brother with a questioning look. “And where is that, exactly?”

“Against him.”

At times, James had a penchant for theatrics and assuming the worst, as he now demonstrated. Albus repressed a much-needed eyeroll. But the more he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded in his head.

And why would Nick even talk about Rose with Albus? Wouldn’t it make more sense that _James_ would be the one chatting with Nick – his _friend –_ and that it would be _James_ making sure his cousin wouldn’t get hurt. It would make more sense. And if it would be convenient for Albus in a situation where everything went to shit and Rose would strangle James for interfering, Albus was okay with that bit as well.

Then there was Scorpius, who was actively pining after Rose. And perhaps Albus _was_ selfish – doubting Nick because of Scorpius – but then again, Albus wouldn’t be doing so if he was certain Rose would be happy with Nick. He would stay out of it… He was quite positive he would.

“Maybe, uh, you could talk to him?” Albus asked and kept his expression impassive, his gaze on his empty teacup.

James cleared his throat. “Yeah. Maybe I will…” He glanced at the timepiece on the wall and then back at Albus. “You ready?”

* * *

They walked across the back garden, towards the house. Snow had greeted them again a couple of days ago, and some of it had stayed put. It was different in the city, where the white had already turned into grey and brown slush. In their parents’ back garden, it was still white and pure, and the snow was mostly untouched.

Closer to the pond there was a new addition Albus was certain he hadn’t seen before. It was a handcrafted garden swing seat.

“What the…” Albus muttered, peering at the fixture as they walked closer. It was obviously made by their father. And it actually looked well-made. “When did he manage that?”

James shrugged. “He’s been working on it for some weeks. Finished before he went back to work.” he said with a contemplative look as they stopped in front of the thing.

Albus’s mind whirled. When had been the last time he had seen his parents? And how odd was it that it was _James_ who knew what was going on with their parents these days? Albus eyed his brother for a moment. “How’s it going in here? Things are still – well – bollocksed up?” He asked with a mild cringe in his expression.

James’s mouth curved slightly upwards before he sobered. “Uh. Mostly, yeah.”

They started to walk towards the house again. Albus wondered exactly how bad the situation was. He knew his mother hadn’t approved of Albus’s father’s return back to work, and knew they had fought over the topic more than once. In addition to that, Albus thought his father was still going through of what had happened six months ago.

He wondered, how long his parents were going to try to hold their marriage together.

“…Hey boys,” their father called from upstairs as soon as the back door closed behind Albus and James. “Dinner’s ready soon, I’ll be down in a moment!”

James looked at Albus, mouthing “Is Mum home?”

Albus shrugged and looked around them in the drawing room. It didn’t seem like it. As James jumped to lounge on one of the sofas, Albus proceeded to the hallway, glancing at the empty and dark sitting room as he passed it and walked to the dining room. He stepped inside and took note of the table that was set for three. His mother’s place was empty.

“Hey, Al.” Albus’s father voice behind him, a bit out of breath.

Albus turned to look at him. His father had gone through quite the change: his hair was cut short, the sides shaved. The black, rectangular horn-rimmed glasses were new as well. His clothes were casual but neat. He looked confident and younger than he was. He also looked relaxed and rather cheerful.

Apparently, working irregular hours as an Auror on the field, being bossed around and staying in constant vigilance was what made his father happy. Albus realised he had been staring at him as the man gave him an expectant look.

“Isn’t, uh, Mum joining us?” Albus finally managed to say, after clearing his throat.

There was a hint of tightness around his father’s mouth as he shrugged. “Not sure. Your mother’s been working a lot, but I’m sure she will try to make it,” he said and gave Albus a half-smile, before nodding his head towards the kitchen. “Better get the food ready.”

As Albus’s father made his way to the kitchen, James came to lean against the dining room door frame and stared at the kitchen door with a frown between his brows, before turning towards Albus.

“Didn’t the match end, like, two hours ago?” James asked quietly, cocking his head to the side.

Albus nodded in agreement, but before he was able to reply, their father emerged back to the hallway, levitating serving platters and bowls.

“James, go fetch some drinks, will you?” Their father quipped before entering the dining room.

James let out a grunt and walked towards the kitchen.

“How are you doing?” Albus’s father asked after placing the food – roast lamb, roast potatoes, carrots, green beans and Yorkshire pudding – on the table and taking his seat. There was a deep furrow between his brows and concern in his eyes.

Albus suppressed a sigh and arched a brow at James, who walked into the room.

James stilled. “What?” He asked, looking between Albus and their father.

“Been blabbering about my stuff to Dad?” Albus asked sharply, taking a seat opposite to his father.

James sniffed and gave Albus an exasperated look. “So… you’ve been hanging about my place for _weeks_ – and who the bloody hell knows how many is yet to come – and you’re upset I told Dad?”

“It’s not _that,_ ” Albus insisted, crossing his arms against his chest. Their father already knew Albus was staying at James’s during Emma’s grandparents’ visit. But now the man obviously knew about what had happened the previous weekend, and how Albus wasn’t going back to South Hampstead anymore. If the look on his father’s face was anything to go by. “And if it bothers you so much that I’m there, why not say so?” He asked from his brother with a tight voice. “It’s not like I got chucked out of my digs – oh, wait – that’s exactly what happened!”

James shook his head and sat down next to Albus, keeping his gaze at the table. “Did I say it bothers me?” He asked wearily.

Albus huffed.

“I’m sure James is quite all right with you staying with him,” their father said steadily, his eyes moving between Albus and James. “And even if he wasn’t, you would be more than welcome to stay here, in your old room.”

Albus felt somewhat queasy at the thought of having to move back to his parents’ place. Still, it wasn’t like he could stay at his brother’s place forever, and if he didn’t start looking at flats, there was a good chance that he was actually going to face moving back to his childhood home, in order to spare his brother.

They ate in silence, until Albus couldn’t take it any longer, couldn’t handle the stressful thoughts about needing his own place, nor the pangs of concern whenever he thought about his mother and wondered why she wasn’t there.

“So, uh, Dad.” Albus said, having nearly emptied his plate, “How’s work?”

While Albus was certain he had seen his parents after the holidays, he knew he hadn’t spoken with his father after his return to the Auror force.

Their father went on a long ramble about a couple of cases he was working on and told them a bit about his partner, Eric. Their father’s partner was in his thirties, was apparently cool and grounded, and not at all bothered by the fact that he was paired up with the Saviour of the wizarding world. Which to Albus sounded like a bag of shite. Even after all these years, people still tended to fawn over Albus’s father for what he did in his past.

Still, Albus thought his father seemed excited and happier than he had seen him in a long time. He thought that perhaps his father’s decision about returning back to the field had been the right one after all, as the man seemed to be enjoying his life again.

“Shouldn’t Mum be here?” James asked suddenly, cutting off their father’s explanation. “The Harpies game was over some hours ago.”

Albus watched as their father’s expression turned into a guarded one.

“Er… There’s still a lot of paperwork to do, I suppose,” their father said and took a long gulp of his wine, the faint furrow between his heavy brows indicating that _something_ regarding their mother _was_ bothering him.

James looked suspicious, and Albus wondered what the hell was going on, and what James evidently knew but Albus didn’t.

“Did I mention Lily’s coming home for Easter?” Their father asked, swiftly changing the subject.

They chatted a bit about Lily, who was coming back from Hogwarts for two weeks at the end of March.

Their father asked about James’s practices, and then asked if it would be all right if he came to watch the next match.

Albus glanced at his brother, who nearly gaped at their father in surprise, in a complete loss of words. Albus wondered when had been the last time their father had actually been there, sitting at the stands, watching James play. It had to be more than a year ago.

The Magpies were facing Chudley Cannons for the second time during the season, and even if James had been playing like crap these days, Albus was sure there wouldn’t have been any doubts of them winning the lousiest opponent in the league. It seemed that event though it was probably the most unimportant match for the Magpies, their father being there made it the most important one for James.


End file.
